#jennifer jareau x elle greenaway

[veeluvss]

fire alarm

autistic!jj who is affected by the fire alarms

this is the first fic i’ve properly written with jj being autistic, pls share your thoughts with me and let me know if you want more … or less

elle and hotch help (mainly elle)

sorry it’s taken me so long to upload new things, i’ve been super busy with uni and life in general :)

Elle could tell from a mile off. The anxious looks, the finger tapping, the quiet cloud that just came over her. She shot Hotch a look and they both glanced to JJ who was ready to break down any moment. It hadn’t come as a shock either, which was thankful - in a way.

Only half an hour before, the entire building was evacuated due to a fire alarm. They were herded like cattle down the stairs. No one could see their feet, their hands - nothing. It honestly felt like they were on the way to the slaughter house. And then the loudness of the alarm, blaring through the entire building. JJ hated it - yet she tried to keep herself composed. She was better than it. She could do it. She was going to be okay - that’s all she kept telling herself.

They managed to get back into the building after being outside for twenty minutes but the bullpen was a mess. People had just up and left so quickly. Hotch had called the team into the round table room to debrief on the rest of the days plans just as JJ was on her way to the bathroom. She couldn’t miss the debrief so she quickly followed the rest of them. She sat in her normal seat, next to Derek. However, he seemed to be completely oblivious to JJ’s struggles and was going on about how stressful the whole ordeal was. Spencer went along with it, spitting statistics about fires which only panicked JJ more.

Elle knew something needed to happen very soon before JJ had a complete meltdown. Hotch knew too.

“Right, Morgan and Reid, I want you to go down to the terrorist unit and get the files for the recent case. Garcia, we need the names and numbers for the families involved. Rossi if you get started on the directors report please.”

The team members mentioned left the room in a hurry and Elle moved to sit beside JJ. Hotch closed the blinds, shut off the lights and put a do not disturb sign on the door before leaving them alone.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Elle asked gently, putting her hand on top of JJ’s trembling one as it reached to her face to pick at it again.

“So loud,” JJ whimpered, shaking her head.

“It was really loud but it’s nice and quiet in here. It’s just you and me.”

“Hold,” JJ asked, avoiding eye contact. Elle moved closer to JJ and wrapped her in a tight embrace. JJ needed the deep pressure therapy - it helped calm her so well and Elle was proud she recognised that was what she wanted and asked for it.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now baby,” Elle sighed, squeezing JJ. JJ buried her head deep into Elle’s neck, hiding from the room.

Half an hour later, JJ was feeling much better. She’d calmed down completely and sat in Garcia’s office with her headphones on. Hotch let her off from work for the rest of the day, to relieve the pressure but she didn’t want to go home on her own. Elle still had work to do and they thought it’d be easier for her to be with Garcia. Someone fun, in a small space with little noise or disturbances. She sat on the floor, under the desk in her small safe space whilst playing her Marvel game.

However, it wasn’t long until another fire alarm ripped through the building. JJ didn’t notice at first, too engrossed in her game but then Garcia pulled off her headphones and reached for her hand.

“We have to go Jay,” Garcia said but JJ’s eyes were wide. She didn’t want to do that - not again. She shook her head and turned into the wall, closing her eyes tight and covering her ears. Garcia didn’t know what to do. She opened her door and looked around - just as Elle came round the corner.

“Oh thank goodness, she won’t move,” Garcia said, panicked.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You go,” Elle said. She crouched down beside JJ and reached for her but JJ threw up her hands, hitting Elle away.

“JJ, we have to leave now,” Elle told her sternly, ignoring the pain in her wrist.

“No, no no no no, I can’t!” JJ screamed, covering her ears and cowering further in.

“Agent, you need to leave-” a security guard said from the door.

“Give me a minute,” Elle replied, turning back to JJ.

“Come on love please, I’ll be there the whole time. We can go to the back we just have to get out,” Elle pleaded.

“I can’t,” JJ sobbed.

Elle sighed, there was no way JJ was moving and Elle couldn’t leave her. “Darling here, come into my arms.” JJ cried but moved over to Elle. She covered her ears and collapsed into Elle’s arms.

“Ma’am please, you have to evacuate,” the guard said again.

“God, I’m trying okayy.” Elle replied.She was trying her best not to explode at him. JJ was her priority, and the last thing she was going to do was force her to leave before she was ready. This has been a stressful enough day for JJ and she was not making it worse.

“Can’t go, I can’t,” JJ sobbed to Elle.

“Jay, we have to.” Elle stood up and pulled JJ with her. It was a struggle, it was hard and JJ fought. As soon as they got down the stairs, the younger girl collapsed to the floor again, shaking in fear. She swung at anyone who came near her and screamed at Elle from across the car park. The team watched on, as well as the many other FBI agents who had also been evacuated. No one could help the small girl as she screamed, rocked and cried - she wouldn’t accept any of it.

“Stay here with her, I’ll go grab her things. She needs to go home,” Hotch said to Elle after the building was deemed safe again. Elle nodded, agreeing JJ had to go home.

“Jay,” Elle whispered, moving closer to the trembling girl. Her hands were over her ears and her eyes shut tight. Elle rubbed her back, “We’re going to go home now.”

JJ nodded, removing her hands from her ears and agreeing : “Home.”

“Home, let’s go.” Elle smiled. She got JJ in the car as they waited for Hotch to bring her stuff. Elle put her belt on and stroked her hair to keep her settled. JJ was fiddling with her fingers so Elle grabbed a spare fidget toy from the glove box. JJ took it, signing a quick thank you, then played absentmindly.

Hotch came back down and handed Elle the bag. “Take a few days, both of you.”

JJ stimmed the whole way home, her hands fiddled with her fidget toy and she rocked back and forth in the passenger seat. Elle kept the music on a low volume wie and put gentle tunes on, as to not overwhelm her girl. It had beena tough day but Elle knew JJ was strong and knew she could get through it.

thank you to @cmfan2005 for the edits!!!

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau head canons #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau au #elle greenaway x jennifer jareau #elle x jj #jennifer jareau x autistic!daughter #jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #jennifer jareau x aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau is autistic #autistic!jj

[garciaasfluffypen]

a kind of betrayal

prompt: continuation of new roommates and insane plans wc: 1.6k  ship: jennifer jareau x elle greenaway 

a/n: reads part 1 and two before this!! also, let me know if you want me to do s2 & 3 with our lovely ladies :) 

part 1 • part 2

after a long talk with elle about her mother, and a failed attempt at getting an extension on her term paper, jj found herself at a loss. she toyed with the necklace she had found sitting on her desk, deep in thought.  they were trying to save the lives of everyone on campus, and she couldn’t even do that and balance her school work. her father was going to have a field day with her.

“please tell me you’re having better luck with the mystical weapon situation.” jj turned to elle, who was reading out of the sumerian book she and tara had gotten from the library.

elle let out a sigh. “mm, not so much. ascalon, an enchanted spear that kills dragons but only if you’re a christian saint. the scepter of kerykeion will heal them. the holy hand grenade of antioch would be perfect for an influx of monstrous rabbits.”

“wait,” jj pulled something up on the computer screen, waiting for elle to look over. “what about this one? the blade of hastur, forged from the burnt bones of starspawn and meant to shatter all that oppose it…” she trailed off.

“that may or may not be sealed into the face of a cliff in an underwater cavern a thousand feet below sea level.” elle continued, a plan forming in her head.

“no. it’s sealed in the face of a cliff in an underwater cavern, a thousand feet below sea level. nobody could survive that, which is probably the point.”

“i could get it.”

jj’s eyes widened as she looked over to elle. “what?”

“the sword. i could get it. pressure depth and nitrogen narcosis aren’t really itches for a vampire.”

“that would be- i mean, you’d be risking your life. and if your mother found out she would…”

“yeah, well, my mother fed the only person i cared about to a monster and maybe i don’t feel like letting that happen again.”

“i mean, i know that you’re not just doing it for me but seriously…”

“don’t be an idiot, jennifer. of course i’m doing it for you.” elle noticed the necklace she was wearing and started to freak out. “where’d you get that necklace?”

“i found it here, i thought you left it for me-”

“get it off.”

“what?”

elle reached for the necklace, hissing as it burned her hand the moment she made contact with it. before she knew it, jj was collapsing onto the bed, and elle was panicking. there was only one person who could be behind this. and she knew exactly who that person was.

“mother.”

“hello sweetheart,” jj- the dean- spoke, smiling sickenly sweet at elle. “i thought it was time we had a little talk.”

“what do you want, mother?”

“you didn’t come when i sent for you, i can’t imagine poor matt was at all unclear. he doesn’t quite have the brains for… delicacy.”

“if you’re going to kill me, why not just come yourself?” elle snarked, crossing her arms.

“kill you? when you think of the lengths i’ve gone to save you from your own foolishness?” a heartless chuckle fell from her lips. “i think you’re a practical girl and you’ll see that everything i do, i do for the best. that silly little creature couldn’t’ve loved you. the second she knew what you were, she spilled all your secrets like an idiot school child. she was a cockroach. a wretched, crawling thing just like poor jennifer. and you, my doll, are a diamond. stone can not love flesh.”

elle resisted the urge to spit in her face. “how could i ever trust you?”

“why don't i start us off with a gesture of good faith? matt has derek right now, and he’s just itching to help out.”

“i thought your hungry little night light wanted virgins.”

“oh, you’ve been reading barkley’s transcriptions. that man was obsessed. no, we just take girls because it's traditional. besides, the worlds just gonna grind them up anyway, so it’s almost a mercy. derek though, believes some idiot accident, perhaps depression over his lost sweetie.” she turned back to face elle. “so what’s it to be? shall we take the prom king here and leave you and the little moppet alone?”

elle sighed. “deal.”

“remember, she’s safe as long as you keep her from meddling. if either of you get in the way again, all bets are off. now be quick, catch!”

                                                           ---

jj stared at the screen, the events that had previously conspired playing out in front of her. tears brimmed her eyes as she watched, her feelings and emotions getting the best of her as she tried to figure out what was going on. alex watched along with her, a whacked up tara sitting on the bed mumbling about going to the party that she and alex were preventing her from going to. as if on cue, elle walked into the room and alex turned around, a stake being pointed right at her.

“not one more step, bloodsucker.”

“what is this?”

elle looked to jj, who simply pressed play on her computer. “were you ever going to tell me? about derek? about the fact she possessed me and used me to hurt my friends? or was it just going to be ‘sorry babe, no sword no rescue, that’s just the way the world is’?”

“jj that’s not- she promised to leave us alone.”

“yeah, just so long as you let her kill my friends. you know, it’s not the sword. the sword would kill you and i get that. it’s that you just gave up. after everything, you didn’t even try.” with tears in her eyes, jj turned away. “go away, elle. go run and hide. we’re done.”

                                                          ---

they had won, they had actually won. and elle was dead. elle was dead and it was all jennifer’s fault- if she hadn’t gone on that stupid adventure with tara and alex, she wouldn’t be sitting here all alone staring at elle’s side of the room and wishing she was there. jj missed elle, and it was something she had never thought she would miss her stupid remarks, and the hair in the shower drain. it had been approximately three days since they had won, and jj was going absolutely insane. an aftershock hit the building, and jj simply sighed, staring at her computer screen as she rode through it. as nice as it was having kate back, jj felt like there was a piece of her life that was missing now that elle wasn’t there. a weird emptiness that couldn’t be filled by another human, no matter how hard they tried.

“hey, jj.” alex lightly knocked on the door, pushing it open slightly. “so um, something happened and i um, i just wanted to come prepare you so that you wouldn’t freak out. so derek and some of his zeta bros were throwing cherry bombs into the big pit under the lustic building and um… the found… um…”

as if on cue, emily walked in with a passed out elle in her arms. jj shot up from her bed, running over to her.

“okay so, we think she’s… i mean she seems dead, but she’s a vampire, right?”

“blood! she needs blood!”

jj ran over to where kate had left the soy milk container earlier that day, grabbing it and bringing it back over to elle. slowly and carefully she poured some blood into her mouth, barely noticing alex and emily slipping out of the room to give them their privacy. a few minutes later elle stirred, a groan falling from her lips. jj practically catapulted herself onto elle, barely registering the fact she had thrown herself onto an injured person. elle was back, and that’s all she could think about.

“hey.”

“are you hurt? it looks like you’re hurt. and i’m sorry i hugged you so hard that you're hurt.” jj looked at elle as she stood up. “it’s just that you were dead and-and now you’re not and i know that you’re probably going through a lot of stuff with your mom, it’s just that-”

elle cut jj off with a kiss, pushing herself as close to the young blonde as she possibly could. she held her close, pulling in every scent of her that she hadn’t had while she was knocked out in the pit. the two of them pulled apart for air before jj initiated the second kiss, this one filled with more emotion than the last. elle pulled away, smiling slightly at jj as she stared at her in disbelief.

“so, you’re a giant black cat huh?”

elle chuckled. “so i am.”

“how are you- are you okay? how are you alive?”

“well, that’s the thing about being a vampire. kinda hard to hurt me unless you put a steak through my heart.”

“let’s not joke about that.” jj let out an exasperated laugh. “i just got you back. i can’t lose you again.”

“oh?” elle’s eyebrow raised. “you can’t loose me, you say?”

“shuddup.”

“what happened to the hatred you had for me a week ago?” elle teased.

“we don’t have to talk about that.” jj hid her face in elle’s good shoulder, blush covering her cheeks. “we really don’t.”

“mmm we do eventually, but i’m okay with not talking about it for now.”

“oh my god i’m so mean, do you need blood? you probably need more blood.” jj detached herself from elle, running to the fridge. “i know we have more in here somewhere.”

elle couldn’t help but smirk. to think that the semester started with jj hating elle’s guts, and here they were, about to embark on… well, she wasn’t sure what she could call it yet but…

jj was hers.  

#melly writes #jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #jennifer jareau imagine #elle greenaway imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #an i (queue) of 187

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #elle greenaway #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season one #criminal minds fic #fic #criminal minds imagine #hotch fic #anchor series #anchor

[yondiii]

SPENCER REID FIC RECS

i’ll sort them by category but prepare yourself this is gonna be a long ass list

im gonna keep updating with new fics regularly so stay tuned

thank you to all these authors for supplying these amazing fics and for feeding my fixation

ly all bbys tysm

pls like and reblog xxx

WIPS

out of convenience 2 - @qlossytbh

she blinded me with science - @whiskeyghoul

my mind turns you into folklore - @samuel-de-champagne-problems

SERIES

right kind of wrong - @incognit0slut

longing glances masterlist - @radioactiveinvisible

ANGST

the great gig in the sky - @mcntsee

chloe or sam or maria or marcus - @mariasont

don’t walk out - @railingsofsorrow

false god - @clementinegreye

doubt comes in - @/street-smarts00

FLUFF

isn’t she pretty daddy - @reiderwriter

take my breath away - @atlabeth

spencer babying reader - @/reiderwriter

nicknames - @pathologicalreid

sunflowers - @baubarbz

after getting hurt on a case - @womanmanipulator

strange perfections - @nereidprinc3ss

SMUT 18+

beyond the limit 2 - @incognit0slut

decoy (16+) - @violetrainbow412-blog

in the dead of night - @/nereidprinc3ss

whiny and spoiled - @/nereidprinc3ss

little angel - @/reiderwriter

HURT/COMFORT

clingy - @street-smarts00

growing pains - @killerlookz

from now on - @aperrywilliams

shouldn’t i want you? - @weird-is-life

OTHERS

stalker - @miley1442111

spencer comforts you (badass reader) - @luveline

don’t think i don’t like you - @/luveline

baby reid! baby reid! - @cowboyspence

so high school 2 - @bellasprettywords

curtain call - @rainydayathogwarts

pretty boy - @/atlabeth

the way i love you - @thegettingbyp2

more coming soon…..

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid is my husband #delusional #criminal minds #behavioral analysis unit #bau team #bau x reader #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #jason gideon #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #mathew gray gubler x reader #mathew gray gubler #my husband #my man my man my man #my man <3 #my man fr #mi hombre

[flaminghotjareau]

happy lesbian visibility week to them

and to my favorite lesbian ships

#idc if you disagree that they’re lesbians #this is my headcanon #except for emily coz everyone knows she’s a lesbian #lesbian visibility week #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #jordan todd #jemily #jelle #jormily #jj x elle #jj x emily #criminal minds #lesbian #wlw

[daisyy345]

how your instagram would look like if you were dating spencer pt5

yourusername

liked by ellegreenaway, meangirljj and others

yourusername passenger princess? no. passenger survivor

view all comments

boywonder dont lie i treat u like a princess 😠

yourusername mhm..

derekm69 is he even old enough to drive?

emprentiss i could take u anywhere u want gorgeous

pennygirl me too babygirl

yourusername thank u my loves 😚

boywonder hello??? she is MY girlfriend

emprentiss too slow genius 🥱

ssahotch so my driving lessons were for nothing?

ellegreenaway WDYM I TAUGHT HIM HOW TO DRIVE

yourusername

liked by emprentiss, derekm69 and others

yourusername spent the whole afternoon arguing about a piece HE LOST but it was a cute idea ig 😒

view all comments

boywonder honey i have an eidetic memory, you were the one in charge of the roof.

yourusername NO I WASNT U WERE

emprentiss never his fault right 😒

yourusername never 😒

boywonder hey

meangirljj so cute!!

davidrossi ❤️

derekm69 idk how this idea could have ever been fun

yourusername stfu

yourusername

liked by ssahotch, pennygirl and others

yourusername let the matriarchy begin 🥷🏼

view all comments

emprentiss from subs to unsubs

yourusername EXCUSE ME??

pennygirl yes miss nairobi 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

derekm69 not gonna get far w those masks 🥴🥴

yourusername u know nothing about fashion

pennygirl agreed

ssahotch this was not what i meant when i said to go undercover

yourusername ur fault for not being specific

boywonder yes what else did you expect?

yourusername

liked by ssahotch, davidrossi and others

yourusername my injured soldier from war 🤕🥰

view all comments

derekm69 fly high🕊

yourusername 🪦🪦

pennygirl aye aye captain

emprentiss gone but not forgotten 😔✊🏻

yourusername 🙏🏻

meangirljj omg

yourusername he is a bit clumsy

yourusername

liked by meangirljj, boywonder and others

yourusername pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks 💋

view all comments

pennygirl thats how you get the girl

derekm69 cringe

emprentiss i second that

yourusername hey 😕

boywonder love you 💞

ellegreenway cutes

meangirljj 💟

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #david rossi #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer x oc #spencer reid fluff #penelope garcia #social media #social media au #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds au

[bucker3911]

#emily x penelope #what's their ship name? #like pemily? #pemily #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #heid #luke alvez #ralvez #derek morgan #moreid #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jemily #jason gideon #cm memes #criminal minds #spencelle

[milfsincrime]

emily: this date is boring

jj: this isn’t a date, we said we were going to the store

emily: then why did you invite me?

elle: i specifically said “don’t come with us” and you said “fuck you greenaway, i do whatever i want” and followed us here

#criminal minds #jemily #jelle #elle x jj x emily #jelle x emily #jemily x elle #jelle x jemily #jemily x jelle #emily x elle #elle x emily #emily prentiss #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jennifer jj jareau #jj jareau #paget brewster #lola glaudini #aj cook #criminal minds incorrect #criminal minds incorrect quotes #incorrect criminal minds #incorrect criminal minds quotes #criminal minds evolution #milfsincrimeposts

[dxhxe]

emily is always so special 🥰🫶

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jason gideon #emily prentiss #elle greenaway #david rossi #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #criminal mind #incorrect quotes #x reader #x you #x yn

[marasmadness]

Would you be interested in doing a one shot with jealous/possessive Elle Greenaway and Jennifer Jareau fighting over f!reader? They compete over her and eventually f!reader just gets fed up and is like, both is good :)

PUSH AND PULL

Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader x Elle Greenaway

CW: Jealousy, smut, threesome, gay confusion (from about everyone except Elle), face sitting, strap-ons, slight praise & a little bit of fluff.

WC: 3315

~

“Tilt your head up,” JJ instructed, cupping your chin. You closed your eyes as she painted a black stripe of eyeliner across your eyelid. You were sitting on the floor of her living room with makeup sprawled across the entirety of her coffee table after she requested that you let her do your makeup before going out tonight.

The rest of the team would be coming as well, but all of them knew that you and JJ had been more closely connected than the rest of them. Shortly after you transferred to the BAU, JJ became your best friend. The two of you were inseparable. She had invited you over early to hang out at her place before you met everyone else at the restaurant. Tonight held more anticipation than most team gatherings: There would be another guest joining you for dinner, a returning agent.

According to JJ, Elle had been an agent quite a few years ago. She was talented, but cases happened and got to her, ultimately ending in her resignation. JJ had seemed somewhat close to her, even with the short amount of time they had spent together. She thought Elle might’ve gone on to be a lawyer, but she wasn’t positive. They hadn’t spoken in a while. From the team's stories, the woman sounded incredibly fascinating, and you were eager to meet her.

The two of you arrived just on time to find Hotch with Rossi already at a table and Penelope and Emily right behind you. Morgan had offered to pick Elle up from the hotel she was staying at while in town. A waitress appeared with waters just as they walked in. Cheers and greetings rose around the table. Morgan raised his ends dramatically, as if the excitement were directed at him and not the stunning woman to his left.

She was still in a red button-down and blazer. The click of her heeled boots turned the heads of their table in her direction as she entered. Her hair was a rosewood brown, resting in waves on her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes and sharp cheekbones that sloped down to her pursed lips produced an air of intimidation. Her face broke out into a smile, and she circled the table with hugs and greetings. You, Rossi, and Emily were the three unfamiliar to her, but she greeted you warmly. She brushed her hand along her shoulder before choosing the seat directly across from you, sending Morgan to the opposite end.

Crossing her arms, JJ leaned on the table in Elle’s direction. "So, what have you been up to? I told y/n I vaguely remember plans for law school, but we haven’t heard from you in forever.”

Elle nodded, swirling the ice in her drink. "I did! I graduated five years ago and then joined a firm started by another ex-FBI agent. It's been rewarding. I miss you guys, but this is a better fit for me.” Her demeanor was admirably confident as she elaborated on a few of her most memorable cases, including the case that returned her to near Quantico

JJ kept asking the questions, but Elle’s eyes kept darting over to land on you. Eventually, once JJ had finished the typical catch-up small talk, Elle turned her attention to you. "Sorry, I came in a bit of a flurry, and you never got to introduce yourself. I know Emily took my place, so how’d you end up at the BAU?"Her questions were simple, but the way her attention was directly and entirely on you made your face flush for some unknown reason. Her chin was in her palm, leaning her elbow on the table as she hung on to your every word.

"Well, JJ was on a case overseas. I took her place. Eventually she returned when Emily returned, but I ended up sticking around anyway. I guess I made a good enough impression.” You shrugged your shoulders, sharing a brief smile with JJ.

"Nobody wanted to get rid of her,” she teased, leaning in toward the table as she whispered.

Elle laughed softly with the two of you. "I can see why,’ she said smoothly. Your lips parted in soft surprise from the sudden and effortless compliment. Elle’s lips just curled into a quick smirk before she began twisting the silver rings decorating her hands.

JJ noticed your frozen stare and brought her hand down on top of your knee, rubbing it lightly. Morgan and Emily became rowdy as usual, attracting the attention of everyone at the table. Laughter filled the booth in the corner as compliments and jabs were thrown out of mouths all in one statement. Things settled down, only slightly, when the food arrived. A few nonchalant conversations continued, but it was mostly the scrape of forks against plates. Everybody was starving. The drinks kept coming throughout the night, and everybody’s inhibitions fell to the floor. Penelope had dragged an extra chair around to sit by Morgan and Emily. Rossi and Hotch had completely left the table, engaged in a conversation with the band, who were currently taking a break. With empty space in the booth, Elle took the opportunity to slide in next to you.

Both Elle and JJ were leaning forward slightly. "So, Elle, is there anyone new, a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Elle’s eyes darted to you for the briefest moment. Clasping her hands in her lap, she answered the question pointedly before twisting the conversation back to JJ. "No, nothing at the moment, but if I’m interested in someone, I let them know. I think it’s silly to waste your chance with someone out of fear. And what about you? Did anything ever come from that thing with-” she froze, trying to retrieve his name. "Oh, Will!”

JJ’s cheek hollowed in with distaste from old memories, and having to admit that things hadn’t worked out. "No, that ended a while ago; it just wasn’t a good match."

The fuse of a growing tension had been lit, but you had yet to notice the tight lips and slight eyerolls exchanged between them. You hadn’t been looking for tension from them in the first place; JJ had mentioned she loved Elle when she was at the BAU and had missed her.

Elle frequently sought you out through the night, constantly starting conversations. "Oh, hang on, your necklace is twisted.” She leaned toward you, her hands brushed against your neck as you adjusted the thin gold chains hanging from your neck. You froze as her hand lingered lightly against your skin, and you could smell hints of her deep cherry perfume from your close proximity.

She only pulled away when JJ’s hand clamped down on your shoulder. "Hey, run to the restroom with me?” You were up and out of your seat with the tug of her hand before you nodded. Leaning on the sink, you frowned, watching JJ become obsessive over every inch of her appearance, something she only did when she was nervous.

"Are you okay? You seem a little on edge tonight."

Her face cracked into a small smile. "Yeah, I’m okay, just feeling a bit off. You notice everything.” Her smile turned into a real one, and she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for checking in on me.”

Elle slid back against the seat so you could slide back into the booth when you returned to the table. As you squeeze by with your hands braced on the table, you feel Elle’s hands drift up to your lower back, sending a flurry of butterflies up in your stomach. Her hands fell back into her lap as you sat down, but you caught a small smirk on her face.

Eventually the waiter started to linger around the table. You got the hint and started passing around the bills. The team walked out in a huddle, shielded from the cold, dropping everyone off at the cars. Once you reached Emily’s car, you were left alone with JJ and Elle. Morgan and Penelope had gotten distracted, lingering in the entryway. "Here, we can take you home,” you suggested without hesitation. Pulling open the door, you stepped back, allowing Elle to climb into the back seat.

"Thanks, love,” she said, squeezing your arm that she was still clinging to.

JJ became excessively touchy for the rest of the car ride. Her hand rested on your thigh permanently, and you slowly rubbed her hand up and down your leg at every stoplight. Elle seemed perfectly content in the back, focused on her text messages, while JJ started talking about what the two of you might do this weekend or breezily joining a conversation when she found a smooth opening. The fact that she wasn’t as quick to fall into JJ’s jealous state was irritating your best friend. She knew you could be quickly defensive at times, even when it was silly, but her head just wouldn't let it go when it came to you. She had always held your dating partners to higher standards than her other friends, even though very few of them ever became serious. Contrary to when she first joined the BAU as the teams communications liaison, she enjoyed time spent with you individually much more than team gatherings.

As you approached the hotel, Elle leaned forward by your shoulder, guiding you toward the parking lot of the building she was staying in. While gathering up her stuff, she stopped with her hand on the handle. "Do you guys want to come in for a moment? The best I can offer you is coffee and vending machine snacks, but I’d like to get to know you more in a quiet setting.”

“Sure!”

“ Actual-” JJ stopped when she heard the excitement in your voice and decided to remain quiet with difficulty. She took a deep breath, got out, and jogged to catch up to you and Elle, who was waiting with the door held open.

The elevator ride up was awkward to say the least. Nobody talked or barely breathed, which actually made it twice as unbearable. You were stuck between wanting to spend time with your best friend and comforting newcomers and also feeling stuck between the tension that had followed the three of you around all night but not being able to figure out its cause.

"The coffee station is down the hall if anybody wants some." Elle trailed off as she dug through her purse for the hotel’s key card.

"I can go grab three,”you offered.

"Thank you so much; it’s three rooms down on the right."

You shuffled down the mall to pour up cups for the three of you while Elle let JJ inside. Quickly pressing on three lids, you cautiously headed back down the hall. Elle’s door was still cracked open a bit, and you could hear their voices from inside.

You were ready to walk right in, but something about their tone stopped you. The jealousy and tight-lipped questions from the rest of the night seemed to have disappeared, and they were talking softly like old friends again.

"How long have you known?"

You recognized Elle’s voice as the slightly lower one and felt bad for eavesdropping, but your curiosity got the better of you. Known what? JJ told you everything, or at least that’s what you assumed.

You heard JJ sigh, and she took a moment to reply. You imagined her resting her head against her hand, like she did whenever she anxiously planned out her answer. "I honestly didn’t know until tonight. I thought I just liked her as a friend, but when the possibility of her being with someone else came up, I realized that I wanted her.”

You heard Elle release a heavy breath. Her voice became quieter, as if she had moved farther away from the door. "You have to tell her, Jay. You’ve been the closest of friends for, like, 8 years now?”

“I hate those kinds of conversations. They’re also so awkward, and I’m not good at expressing my feelings. And how would I even know if we have the attraction and chemistry aspect, not just a romantic connection?

Elle chuckled. "Sex, JJ, that would be the answer.

"Ugh, but sex with someone who I called a friend all of ten minutes before has always been awkward. It always seems restrained or calculated. I would just want to see if we could... Have fun, you know? I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this. You still have that effect on people.

"What, the one that makes people want to confess to a crush on their best friend and sex life? I think that’s just you babes.” High-pitched laughter from both of them blended together.

"If you want something new and exciting, then initiate something new and exciting. I think it would be a terrible mistake to pass up the possibility of something working out between you. I mean, have you seen her?

There was a long silence and then an exchange of gasps between them that made you think they might be having a conversation with their eyes.

“No, are you serious?”

You began to only be able to hear clips of the conversation. The rest was only in barely audible whispers that you were unable to discern.

"I mean, only if you’re interested. No strings, of course; I’ll be leaving. I do happen to be great at loosening people up, and I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy it. I also completely understand if your answer is no, jealousy is complicated."

Someone began approaching you from the other end of the hotel hallway, and you didn’t want to be caught seemingly eavesdropping on a hotel guest's conversation. Slipping inside, you shut the door behind you loud enough to announce your return.

"Hey darling, you can just set them on the counter over there.” Elle called out from her spot, sprawled out on the corner of her couch. JJ sat on the other end. Neither of their faces hid the effects of their conversation well, but while Elle’s was a deepening sense of confidence, JJ’s was a spreading blush and eyes darting back and forth. "Was the machine slow again? You took a minute."

You shifted your weight back and forth on the heels of your feet as you debated telling them you had overheard. Your eyes darted to the hotel door that had been propped open, possibly purposefully. Maybe you were reading into it, but you had seen the caution and paranoia that takes over FBI agents even in their personal lives. Elle should be no exception, and wouldn’t live hotel doors in the center of the city propped open. “ I um overheard snippets of your conversation and it sounded serious, so I decided I’d wait outside until you were finished.

Elle smiled softly, glancing at JJ to watch her expression just as you were. She went through every emotion in about twenty seconds. Her face grew pale with the natural instinct of being overheard, but then she almost looked more relieved. Possibly one less awkward conversation out of the way, she didn’t have to hide it like a secret from you any longer, and the ball was now in your court.

"We've been friends for years JJ. I think you already know what my response will be. I’m open to it, all of it.” The words rolled off your tongue as you tilted your head, and both women straightened up with attention.

"God,” Elle chuckled under her breath, sipping at the drink you handed her.

You smirked, tilting your head toward the bedroom a few steps away, and reveled at the way JJ’s eyes darkened with desire. Both women were silently up and behind you with soft footsteps as you climbed on the bed. They stood on the edge while you kneeled into the mattress.

Elle pulled off JJ's jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Goosebumps rose along the back of the blonde’s neck. You reached forward and tugged her closer to you by her belt, causing her breath to hiccup. You undid her belt painfully slowly while she tangled her hands in your hair. Elle was slightly turned away, undressing in front of the nightstand. Your heartbeat fluttered at the sight of a harness hanging from her hips. JJ tugged on your hair, sending sparks through your scalp. "Let me eat you out baby,” you begged, dragging your nails down her thighs with a cheshire grin.

“Sit on her face,” Elle challenged as she orchestrated your positions all while climbing up in between your legs.

JJ seemed hesitant to have her weight balanced above your mouth and gripped the headboard harshly. With gentle reassurance, you guide her downwards until she gasped at the contact of your lips brushing against her cunt. Elle spurred you on, dragging her red faux cock along your slick folds. Your hands grabbed at JJ’s ass, enjoying the soft pants that fell from her lips as your tongue explored her. Flicking her clit sent quivers through her thighs, and she moved her hands down to your chest, kneading your breasts.

It didn’t take you long to realize Elle was reacting along with you. Every time your lips closed around JJ’s clit, stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves, Elle thrust into you with a bruising grip on your hips. Each of your movements drew JJ and consequently, yourself closer to an orgasm.

Elle’s pace suddenly quickened, causing you to moan. JJ cried out from the vibrations, digging red crescents into your skin. "Fuck,” she panted. "You're doing so good baby,” she praised, wiping the mix of juices from the corner of your mouth. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she hollowed out her cheeks as she sucked them clean. Returning your mouth to her cunt with fresh motivation, you ran your tongue along her slit, and her thighs clenched over your ears. All sound became muted by the sound of blood rushing in your head and JJ’s murmuring off soft praises as she ran her fingers over all of your body that she could reach.

You felt your legs stretch as Elle rested your heels on her shoulders. The new angle allowed her to pound in with you at a breathtaking new angle. Just as the rough movement of her hips rocking against yours was about to transform into pain, a smooth, ecstatic feeling left your lungs traveling through your limbs with a hazy sensation.

JJ elicited a combination of moans and satisfied whimpers as her body tensed and her cum coated your lips with a trembling orgasm. Her toned thighs relaxed from alongside your head and she ran her thumbs down your flushed cheeks. When she leaned backwards, Elle supported her easily, rubbing her hands up and down JJ’s legs from behind her.

Untangling yourselves, the three of you collapsed into the sheets with heartbeats pounding out of your chests and the quick rise and fall of your lungs. After a moment, JJ rolled over, tucking her arm around your waist. Lifting her head, she peered over your head to Elle, who was smiling at JJ’s soft act of affection from across the bed.

Your eyes were fluttering in and out, not focused enough to read their lips as they mouthed back and forth to each other. Elle, on the other hand, smirked at JJ’s exaggerated mouth shapes to convey an "Oh my god.”

Elle tipped her head with her everlasting confidence, responding with a silent, "You're welcome, that was…” She was unable to string her words together for the first time all night. JJ grinned adoringly as she rested her head on the pillow beside yours, curling her chin into your neck. Your eyelids finally sank completely closed upon the touch of her warm embrace.

#jennifer jareau x reader #wlw smut #elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #jennifer jareau #criminal minds

[neuroprincess]

Criminal Minds - How They Cuddle (Preferences)

Classification: Fluff

Pairing: Alex Blake, Elle Greenaway, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia and Tara Lewis

Warnings: None

Word count: +500

Alex Blake

- She may not look it, but loves and values physical contact and this makes her a big fan of cuddling, especially on mentally exhausting days. Alex often lies on the sofa in the living room, on the sun lounger when it's hot, with a book in hand, just waiting for you to join in, once that happens she'll have her head lying against your chest, arm under your body, free hand stroking hair or gently rubbing your back while she reads silently. 

Elle Greenaway

- She's like a cuddly bear, barely able to keep her hands off you for long and this can make her seem a bit clingy, but it's hard not to give in when she makes that cute puppy face. Elle loves to have her arm around you in any situation, stroke all your soft spots and occasionally tease you with a few tickles. If you are shorter, she will delight in laying the head on top of yours and smelling hair, fingers tracing invisible words on your skin. 

Emily Prentiss

- Calm and intimate moments are by far her favorite, understandable considering the chaotic and tense nature of her job. Some days, Emily just wants to lie down and be held being the little spoon, feeling the comfort and tranquillity that the warmth of your body offers. Other days she wants to be face to face, running her fingertips over your face, memorizing and appreciating every detail as you talk about respective days, sharing the good and the bad things.  

Jennifer Jareau

- In previous relationships, the blonde didn't have the habit of cuddling so often, maybe it was the dynamic or the trying to juggle work, but with you it's a necessity. There's nothing better than coming home, having a hot bath and throwing herself into the arms of her lover in bed, arms wrapped around your waist and head lying against chest, feeling your heart beat, listening to the breathing until both fall asleep. The boys are very affectionate, so spending lazy family mornings on the bed/sofa becomes habitual, sometimes watching animations. 

Penelope Garcia

- As well as loving pet names and PDA, obviously Penelope would love to cuddle. She's vibrant, expressive and very affectionate, plus has an inexplicable obsession with your hands, she'll always be rubbing it and drawing imaginary shapes. In the privacy of home, she'll have you in her arms at any moment, hugging behind the back while preparing dinner, legs entwined and stroking soft spots on the skin when watching series, etc. And it's not as if work stops her, at the first opportunity Garcia puts you on her lap or sits on yours, holding hands, intimate conversations that make the days better.  

Tara Lewis

- In contrast, at first she's not so keen on cuddling for no reason and gradually learns to love these moments. Tara even creates a kind of ritual, turning off the light or closing the curtains to leave the room pleasantly dark, putting on some soft background music and grabbing a blanket to cover you both up, there's nothing better than lazy afternoons in each other's arms. Her fingers stroking your hair as she gives you soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks, sharing a glass of wine between loving words. 

taglist: @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @milciak @ctrlamira @milffilm @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @unexpected-character @spenc-is-bi @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @louderfortheback @lovelyy-moonlight @gratifiedgiraffe @h-doodles @moonzbluz @lilfartbox1 @storiesofsvu

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#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #preferences #alex blake x reader #elle greenaway x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jj x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #penelope garcia x reader #tara lewis x reader

[veeluvss]

october 1st

jj and elle on their anniversary weekend :)

pure fluff

one or two adult intended lines but nothing explicit

The autumn sun had set hours ago and the rain was softly pattering against the window. Elle lay on the sofa, waiting for her girl to get home from work - ready for them to begin their weekend. The first of October, their anniversary weekend. It was their first anniversary and due to Elle not working, she had lots of time on her hands to plan something amazing. JJ was so special to her and she was going to prove it.

She heard the keys in the lock and jumped up off the sofa. Quickly setting the blanket back to its proper position, fluffing the pillows and then picking up the box of chocolates and card, she waited to see her girlfriends face. She heard her sigh before she saw her but then her sweet girl entered the living area.

JJ had flowers in her hand but she looked tired yet so beautiful. Her blue eyes, made brighter by the darkened circles, were eyes she could never forget. Her red cheeks, most likely from crying, matched her soft lips, set into a sweet, small smile as she laid eyes on Elle. It was all so precious to her.

“Hey baby,” Elle smiled widely, walking around the sofa to get closer to her girl.

“Hi,” JJ smiled back. “Happy First Anniversary,” she whispered, holding out the flowers. They were a mix of reds, oranges and yellows - the most beautiful autumnal mix. Elle took pride that they fell in love in October. The flowers matched their house decorations; a small place, full of tiny pumpkins, autumn wreaths, fairy lights, blankets, books and cushions.

“Happy Anniversary baby girl,” Ellle replied, handing the chocolates over. She gave the card too and JJ ran her fingers over the picture on the front. Elle’s favourite picture of the two, wrapped in each others arms, staring into each other’s eyes. The swapping of gifts was quickly over when Elle wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. JJ fell into her arms, exhausted. She soaked up the embrace, the love.

“Come sit,” Elle whispered, taking JJ’s hand. She sat down first and sat JJ across her lap, her girl’s favourite position, especially after a tough case. “I saw the news. Hard one?” Elle asked, putting some blonde hair behind JJ’s ear. JJ acted so tough at work. She was rock solid to everyone else, doing her job, compartmentalising what she needed to but when she came home, she hadn’t quite mastered letting the case go. JJ nodded slowly and put her head in the crease of Elle’s neck.

“Children always get to me,” she sighed, beginning to fiddle with Elle’s fingers.

“You saved them baby girl,” Elle whispered, holding JJ closer to her. JJ nodded sadly before softly nodding off to sleep in Elle’s arms. Finally feeling saafe and relaxed after two long days.

An hour later, JJ slowly began to wake up. Instantly, she stretched, some how getting herself closer to Elle and Elle smiled widely. Holding JJ was one of her favourite parts of the day, to keep her girl safe, to make sure she felt loved.

“Morning sleepy head,” Elle chuckled, moving some hair from JJ’s eyes.

“Shush,” JJ giggled and put her fingers on Elle’s lips before lifting herself up and taking her lips in hers instead. It was a soft kiss, one full of love and tenderness.

“I have a surprise for you, we have to leave soon. Go get changed,” Elle smiled, putting her hand on JJ’s chest, stopping them both before it got too out of control. JJ pouted but Elle smiled widely. “Wear something comfy.”

“Comfy?” JJ frowned. “No fancy dinner?”

“Do I look like the fancy dinner type Jay?” Elle asked.

JJ shrugged, “You continue to surprise me every day Elle, even a year on.” She leaned in for another kiss but Elle stopped her.

“Changed and then I promise all weekend we can have endless kisses.”

Their playlist played softly in the car as they drove through the rain. Elle had made the playlist, being the simp she is, pretty early on in the relationship. Well, from what JJ knew anyway. JJ was introduced to a new playlist about a month in but Elle had had her own weeks before the two got together.

“Where are we going?” JJ asked, looking over at her girlfriend in the drivers seat. Their hands were connected, fingers interlaced and the blinking lights of cars zooming past made JJ feel so content as she watched them illuminate Elle’s face.

“A cabin in the woods,” Elle said softly.

“Was this Gideon’s idea?” JJ giggled. Elle rolled her eyes and glanced at her giggling girl.

“No silly, it was mine and you’re going to love it.”

Elle had been their earlier in the day to set everything up, get the keys, stock the cupboards etc. She amde sure all of JJ’s favourite food, drinks and snacks were in. As well as taking a few of their favourite spooky movies ready to get into season. She’d dropped off their bags and then decorated accordingly. Fairy lights were strung all around the room and across their king sized bed was pictures of the two taken over the last year. Elle had even made her an anniversary basket - full of her favourite things which she couldn’t wait for JJ to see.

They pulled up half an hour later and quickly ran to the decking. However, they were soaked just from the small path. Elle fumbled with the keys as JJ’s cold hands wrapped under her jumper, trying to warm up.

“Stop that,” Elle chuckled, wiggled.

“What, Im cold,” JJ replied, wiggling her fingers.

“It tickles, give up,” Elle laughed, moving away from JJ as she pushed the door open.

“Come hereeee, you warm me up,” JJ cried, chasing after Elle as she ran into the cabin.

Elle managed to get the fire on before JJ could find her and put her cold self all over her.

“You’re meant to warm me up,” JJ pouted, crossing her arms and standing in the door way.

“Says who?”

“Me. It’s girlfriend code.” Elle rolled her eyes and walked over to her girl.

“Oh is it really?” Elle asked, cupping JJ’s cheeks.

“Mhms, now you gotta warm me up AND kiss me,” JJ mumbled, pouting her lips. Elle of course kissed her.

“How about we go do something fun first and then I’ll warm you up in a nice hot bath?”

“A bath?” JJ’s eyes widened, she loved baths. She loved baths more than she loved Elle sometimes.

“Yeah, come this way first,” Elle grabbed JJ’s hand and took her through the kitchen and then to the back door. She turned and pressed some buttons on her phone. ‘She’s always a woman’ by Billy Joel started playing and JJ gasped, she loved this song. The speakers played it louder and Elle opened the door. She picked up JJ suddenly. Jay wrapped her arms around Elle’s neck, squealing as she was carried into the rain.

“What are you doing?” she asked Elle.

“Dancing with my girl in the rain,” Elle replied simply. She set JJ on the wet grass and JJ laughed, looking at Elle. Elle took one hand whilst the other placed on JJ’s waist. JJ put her head on Elle’s shoulder softly and they began to sway in time to the music. The rain around them, the sweet serenade of Billy Joel, their warm bodies. Elle span her around and began to sing softly. JJ couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, feeling like a true princess.

“She’ll bring out the best and the worst I can be,” Elle giggled, holding JJ closer to her as they continued to dance.

“She takes care of herself, she can wait if she wants,” Elle sung. JJ’s eyes were closed, listening to the sweet tones.

“She’s always a woman to me.” They ended the song by JJ lifting her head and kissing Elle with so much love, passion, care and adoration she could muster.

When they pulled away, Elle dragged JJ back inside to the warmth of the cabin before showing her to the bedroom. JJ gasped, seeing the beauty and the effort of it all. She turned to Elle with a big smile, ready to thank her but Elle put her finger up.

“Go see it first, then you can thank me,” she said softly. JJ rolled her eyes but crawled onto the bed, picking up the pictures one by one, memories of their past year together flooding her. Tears welled up in her eyes but she blinked them away. She reached the hamper and immediately smiled widely. Inside were all of her favourite sweets - tons of packets of them. There were butterfly stickers, all oof her favourites. A big, cream knitted blanket, some new pyjamams and more pictures of the two of them. Elle had got her a glass of her favourite wine. JJ had never felt more loved. She crawled over to Elle and pulled her into a huge hug.

“Ew, you’re wet,” elle giggled, pushing JJ away. She was getting nervous from it all now but JJ didn’t care.

“Shut up and kiss me,” JJ laughed, pulling at Elle again. Elle smiled and kissed her girlfriend before pulling her off the bed.

“Got my bed all wet now, god,” Elle mumbled, wiping the sheets. JJ laughed and put her fingers on Elle’s cheek, forcing her to look at her.

“Thank you, for all of this, truly,” JJ said with a wide smile on her face.

“You deserve the world my princess, I wanted to give that to you,” Elle responded. Only JJ would detect the slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You give me the world and more everyday just by being mine,” JJ replied.

“That was so cheesy,” Elle laughed but hugged JJ.

“Shush,” JJ whined, hiding in Elle’s chest.

Elle got the bath running whilst JJ made them both a glass of red wine. She made sure she had the chocolates too, however, upon seeing them, she saw the card Elle had written. The card she completely forgot to read earlier when she got home. She sat on the sofa, letting the cushions swallow her up as she opened it. She examined the picture on the front again and she smiled widely - it was her favourite picture of the two. She read over the words written in the card. She could tell how much thought and precision went into every word. Tears came to her eyes again. Elle had poured her heart out. She had out done herself this time.

“Baby, it’s ready,” Elle called through the cabin. JJ sniffled and closed the card and set it down before grabbing the chocolates and wine. She joined Elle in the bathroom and put them all down before taking her girlfriend into her arms yet again.

“Hey,” Elle giggled, holding her girl tight. She lifted JJ’s chin up and frowned at the tears in her eyes.

“Whats up baby?”

“I just love you so much,” JJ whispered, holding tighter.

“I love you too, my girl,” Elle replied.

“Join me?” JJ asked, looking up at Elle with her puppy eyes.

“You don’t even need to ask.”

The bath was so relaxing. Laying back in Elle’s arms, surrounded by bubbles, hot water, love, wine, candles and chocolates! JJ had never felt more pampered. She was getting tired, surrounded by all the love.

Elle slid out first and helped JJ out then wrapped one towel around the both of them, holding JJ’s wet body next to hers.

“Elle,” JJ laughed at her silly antics.

“What?? I’m just getting us dry,” Elle smiled and held JJ closer to her.

“You’re so silly,” JJ smiled and pushed away, grabbing her own towel. “We’ve just had a bath, at least wait until we have to go get clean again,” JJ winked making Elle’s mouth fall open.

“I was not implying that at all,” she gasped. “But now you mention it,” Elle smirked and pulled JJ closer to her by the towel. JJ squealed.

They were asleep before midnight. JJ wrapped in Elle’s arms as their naked bodies were entangled in the sheets.

Elle held JJ so close to her, never wanting to let her go. Losing her job, getting shot, losing her friends - it had all been so much for Elle recently but JJ hadn’t left her side. She didn’t know where she’d be without her blonde angel. JJ had really lit up her life entirely. Surrounded by the darkness and cruel world was one thing but then turning around and seeing JJ’s sweet face, everytime. Feeling her small arms wrap around her waist every day, feeling her soft lips on hers, smelling her coconut and vanilla scented hair products, she made everything so so much better. She made it all worth it. She wanted to spend forever with her.

JJ had never felt safer in someone’s arms. Elle knew everything about JJ, from Roslyn, to her favourite flower. She felt accepted, loved, equal. There was something so tender in Elle’s eyes all the time. After such a hard day at work, being strong, it was incredible for JJ to come home and be vulnerable with someone as loving, caring and badass as Elle. She knew that she’d been through it this past year but that didn’t change her level of love whatsoever. Elle was the love of her life and JJ wouldn’t have it any other way. From her brunette hair falling over her face, to her hands brushing JJ’s cheeks, wiping away her tears - there was something so precious and beautiful about her girlfriend. The way she held her heart on her sleeve but only for certain people. The way she displayed her passion for her things all the time. The way she sung or held her so carefully. JJ wouldn’t change Elle for the world.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #elle greenaway x jennifer jareau #elle #elle greenaway #jelle #autumn #dancing in the rain #cabin #wlw #jj x elle #elle x jj #jj jareau

[garciaasfluffypen]

insane plans

prompt: continuation of new roommates wc: 1.2k ship: jennifer jareau x elle greenaway a/n: read part one before this one!!!!!

part 1 • part 3

the strangest things kept happening after the whole accidentally sending the campus into chaos thing that jj had gotten herself wrapped up into. which was probably how they found themselves sitting in jj’s dorm room, with emily-her very adorable lit ta- and alex flipping their shit at her and tara going to the library after 6:30pm.

“oh sure, you know, tell it like this insane plan that the pair of you hatched was the logical next step. the library, jennifer. the library?”

“i admit, in retrospect, it wasn’t the most brilliant idea.” jj looked down. “everything was fine! at first. as soon as we got there, everyone was leaving. and when the sun went down… we started to hear something…”

“skittering?” tara continued. “the online system was really helpful. it gave us a cross reference list before i even started typing.”

“so we found most of the textbooks… uh…”

“before you realized the staircase wasn’t in the same place anymore?” emily stared at jj like she was crazy.

“we might have gotten a little turned around. at that point, most of the computer monitors were warning us to ‘run. run now’.” jj shuddered as she remembered what had happened. “so we did what any normal person would do if they were caught in a flying vortex of modern literature and index cards from the 1970s.”

“we created a flamethrower using a lighter and some mace that jj’s dad gave her.”

“and after all of that, i get a text that says come quick, stuck in library, bring fire extinguisher.”

“okay yes, but it turned out fine.” jj sheepishly looked up to emily. “the sprinklers turned on and we snuck out a window.”

“oh yeah, with god knows what on your heels.” emily snapped.

“okay, yes! it was stupid, and we’re lucky that you didn’t have to save our souls. can we please skip to the part where once every twenty years like clockwork this girl shows up here at silas?” jj pulled up the pictures of elle she had scanned onto her computer.

“well, yeah,” tara started. “we know she’s a vampire. i mean, we’ve known that since the blood in the milk container right? vampire, vampire , vampire, yeah?”

there was a moment of silence before jj spoke. “you knew i was living with a vampire and nobody said anything?”

“she’s not a vampire.” alex started. “there’s no such thing. she’s a… light averse octogenarian with extreme hemoglobin deficiency and really good skin.”

jj started thinking out loud. “so something is taking girls, and the ones that have come back have gone full on lucy from dracula and you don’t think my roommate being a vampire is, i dunno, pertinent information? and i’m next! she’s making with the creepy dreams and the charms…”

“and the seduction eyes-”

“seduction eyes?” emily stared at jj.

“oh my gosh. she’s a vampire. my roommate is an honest to lestat vampire. how do we stop a vampire?”

“staking, decapitation, immolation, uh, there’s something here about driving an iron needle through the heart. normally i’m not into this stuff but in the case of seduction eyes i could definitely warm up to the thought.”

after talking about it, they figured out that the next best thing to do was to pull elle out with bait. and by bait, they meant jj. which was how she found herself somehow sitting in her room in her nicest blouse, waiting for the okay text to go down to the party. except she didn’t have to go down, because elle came to her. and just jj’s luck, emily came running in just as things started to get spicy. but she went on with the plan, helping emily and tara tie her to a chair, putting cloves of garlic around her neck. after a fun little side excursion with derek morgan and matt simmons when their girlfriends went missing, jj found herself back in the dorm room, sitting with elle as she refused to talk. that was, until she started spazzing.

“elle! oh no, no, no no no no no! please don’t die, don’t die you stupid vampire!” she looked around frantically, realizing the blood was still in the fridge. “here, look!” she ran and grabbed it, rushing back over to elle. “i have blood!” she poured it in her mouth, hoping and praying she’d come back to life.

“dammit…”

jj let out a sigh of relief. “do you want some more?” at elle’s confused look, she continued. “we figured we might need some leverage so tara got it from the campus hospital. look, if you really want me to believe that you didn’t do it, you have got to explain what you were doing at those parties. cause the night that we caught you, it sure looked like you were about to eat me.”

elle let out a dry laugh. “you thought that was me trying to eat you?”

“well if you weren’t trying to eat me what were you…” jj blushed as she realized what elle was actually doing. “oh… oh! so when you were hitting on me… you were actually hitting on me.”

“yes.” she paused. “and you were luring me into a trap.” elle turned to laura. “just stake me now, cause i think that would be less mortifying than this conversation.”

“okay, even if i were to believe you, that still doesn’t explain what you were doing at the parties and how you know all the missing girls. if you want us to trust you, you have gotta tell us your side of the story.”

“my side of the story?” she let out another chuckle as her eyebrow raised. “buckle up creampuff. we’re gonna be in for a long night.”

and she did. elle told her everything, about how she was born in styria back in 1680, growing up wealthy and not being affected by the war against the ottoman empire. about how she attended a ball where she was murdered, and how she was raised for a second time by the woman she only knew as mother. the mother elle knew after death. she recounted many key points in her life, and how everything started when her mother set her up with girls. how she’d have to turn these girls in and eventually give them over to her mother. and that was how she met natasha. the girl she would do anything to spend the rest of her life with. how that time, she truly fell in love with the girl, and how she couldn’t bear to give natasha up to her mother. how her mother went behind elle’s back and told natasha who she truly was. and as a punishment, was sent under the earth in a coffin for years until the 1950s. and how after that, she tried to save every girl she could.

“so you’ve been helping them escape?”

“when i can.”

“did you help kate?” elle shook her head. “so, someone that she knew, someone she thought was her friend, was really a vampire? and took her for your mother.”

“yes.”

“so, we find your mother and we get our friends back.” at elle’s chuckle, she tilted her head. “what’s so funny? we caught you.”

“as humiliating as that was, it doesn’t change the fact that my mom will scoop out your eyeballs and serve them in martinis. you’re already terrified of her.”

“already? i’ve never met your mom.”

“yes you have. she’s the dean.”

#melly writes #jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #jennifer jareau imagine #elle greenaway imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #an i (queue) of 187

[confused-pyramid]

There Is More When You Let Go | s2

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 18.8k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, kidnapping, torture, drug use, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 2x01, 2x05, 2x06, 2x13, 2x14, 2x15, 2x16, 2x18, 2x23

a/n: here's season 2 of the anchor series! I had a lot of fun writing this one (hence why it got so long lmao), and I included a lot more direct show content in this part, so I hope you like it. Also more flashbacks:) Title is from Benediction by Luke Sital-Singh

series masterlist

A gunshot. That's the last thing you hear before Elle's front door flies open, almost throwing you back onto the stairs. The shock of seeing the Fisher King standing right in front of you almost makes you miss the puddle of blood that has started seeping across the floor to your feet.

"Elle," you gasp, your moment of distraction enough time for the man to push you behind him and make a break for it. You fall forward with the force of his shove, but he's much slower than you are. If you ran after him now, you could almost certainly catch up to him, but the sight of Elle bleeding out in front of you makes you immobile.

Making the split second decision to abandon the chase, you throw yourself forward and press your hands against her wound to control the blood flow.

"You're gonna be okay," you tell her, even as her blood trickles out from below your palm. "I need to call for help."

Pressing one hand down harder, you try to ignore the sounds of her gasping in pain as you reach behind you for her house phone. After dialing 911, you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder and bring your hand back to apply more pressure.

The paramedics arrive within five minutes, and they pry you off of her as they pull out a defibrillator. You had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out that you hadn't even noticed she had stopped breathing. How could you have missed that?

"Charging to 200."

You lean back against her couch as tears leak from the corners of your eyes.

"Clear!"

***

"They took her into surgery," you say when Hotch meets you at the hospital. Your eyes keep darting around, like you're looking for something, but you don't know what.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to regain your focus. The pressure calms you down.

"I think he was waiting for her," you whisper, your throat tightening. "He had to have been. It all happened so fast."

His eyes stay on yours, as though trying to predict your next movement. "I'm glad you're okay."

More agents filter into the hospital and he begins to turn away to talk to them, but then you stiffen under his hands. "I had him, Hotch."

"What?" he frowns, looking at you again. "What are you talking about?"

You lift your hands to your face to brush away a strand of hair, barely noticing the stains all over your skin. "He was right there. The unsub. I could've grabbed him...but I didn't."

Anderson walks over with a question, but Hotch doesn't take his eyes off you. "You went to Elle. It's okay, you made the right choice."

"But the girl he took," you protest, shaking his hands off, "this could have lead us to her, but she's still-"

"You did the right thing," he cuts you off, waving Anderson away to speak with someone else. "It's not your fault."

You grit your teeth, your voice still tinged with guilt. "How do you know?"

"Because," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it's mine. I sent her home."

You open your mouth to tell him how unfair that is, but he cuts you off with an order to go wash up before he leaves to explain the situation to the other agents.

The only bathroom on that floor of the hospital is at the end of the patient ward, so you trudge down the hallway and into the single family restroom, trying to avoid the worried glances from all around.

You haven't seen your reflection since before leaving with Elle, and you know it can't be a pretty sight, but the face staring back at you in the mirror is still a shock.

The bottom of your shirt is matted to your skin, and your hands are covered in now-dried blood that looks flaky and dark. When you look up, you see a streak of blood smeared over your nose from when you swiped at your face earlier.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, you run them under the faucet before scrubbing at your face and peeling your button down off to rid them of any trace of Elle's blood. When you're sure there isn't anything left, you turn the faucet back on and stretch your hands forward, watching the warm water turn a muddy red color as it swirls around the drain.

Eventually, the water runs clear, but you can still see the blood in your mind. You are suddenly ambushed by a memory you thought you had pushed down long ago. Red blood, cold skin.

How was there so much blood in the human body?

Your department-mandated therapist told you at the time that you would be in denial for the first few weeks, but you weren't denying anything. You had seen his body, seen the blood pooling around him as the coroner snapped photographs for the crime scene report. You knew he was dead. You just couldn't get that question out of your mind.

The memory shifts and suddenly you're seventeen again. You're seventeen and you are reaching for your first aid kit for the second time this month as Hotch sits on your bed with what feels like a permanent wince fused to his lips.

"Hold still," you whisper as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and press it into the cut on his hand. There's also blood under his nose and in his teeth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He hisses as the alcohol makes contact, but he doesn't pull away. He's used to this routine now. You both are.

"I'm sorry I came by so late," he whispers through gritted teeth as he watches your fingers peel open a bandage. You want to berate him for apologizing, for feeling so much guilt all the time, but it's fruitless. It's like he was born with it inside of him, always clawing its way out at the slightest inconvenience.

"Don't be." You shoot him a look that he knows to mean 'be quiet and let me finish this'. He heeds your unspoken order, but after a few minutes, it's you who breaks it. "How did this one happen?"

He looks down and you immediately want to take it back. "You don't have to answer."

He's quiet for a beat. "He was drunk and I cleared his bottle away before he was finished with it."

Your lips thin and you press your hand to his knee, desperately needing to connect yourself to him in some manner.

"I tried to keep him in the kitchen, so Sean wouldn't hear, but I guess the noise woke him up." He takes a deep breath, and you can almost feel the determination entering his body as he sits up straighter. "I couldn't let him get to Sean, so I finally did it. I fought back."

He looks down at his bandaged hand then, and you can see pride accompanying the blood etched into the lines of his face. "I finally fought back."

Your eyes refocus and when you look at yourself in the mirror again, there's no trace of Elle's blood on your body anymore.

***

When Elle is discharged from the hospital, you spend the rest of the break helping her move out of her house and into a new apartment. When you drove her back home, the blood had been cleaned off of her floors, but you could see in her expression that it wasn't enough. This place would always be a reminder of what had happened to her.

The apartment search was quick, only a week between finding a place she liked and signing the new lease, but she saved the actual move out for the last few days of your break, instead hopping between sleeping in your guest room and a motel in town.

That's why you find yourself in Elle's old bedroom on the final Saturday before you're due back at work, packing some of her clothes into a suitcase while she works on clearing her bathroom. She tossed out almost everything she didn't absolutely need, only packing up her basic clothing and a few other sentimental keepsakes from her past.

"What about these?" you ask, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans that you remember her wearing to the bars with you a few months ago. God, has it really only been a few months?

She peeks out of the bathroom for barely a second. "I told you, I don't care. Keep it, toss it, your choice."

You don't know how you feel about being in charge of her future wardrobe, especially since you tend to live in loose jeans and old tee shirts when you're not at work, but you can understand where she's coming from. The instinct to hand off every decision to someone else.

You remember how hard it was for you to even decide what to eat for dinner after Jeff died. You also remember Hotch slipping pre-packed meals into your fridge whenever he came over to keep you company.

It takes you a couple of hours to clear out her house, and another hour to drop her and her stuff off at the new place, with promises to visit whenever you can over the next months of her leave.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until your front door shuts behind you and you collapse onto your couch, still in your dirty clothes. The summer sun is completely below the horizon as you lean back into your throw pillows and grab the tv remote. You haven't used your tv in months, and you figure that a vacation from work is the perfect opportunity to dust it off.

The screen comes to life on a local news channel, where a young reporter with teased-up hair is announcing a recall on a vacuum cleaner brand you've never heard of. She finishes her spiel before handing the mic off to an older woman who starts reporting the details of a car accident that took place in a neighborhood a few miles from yours.

These reports don't usually get under your skin - you have seen enough to know that it happens everyday - but suddenly, you can't stand to look at the crime scene tape flashing on your screen. You don't wait long enough to see what caused the accident. Whether it was a simple mistake, or if it was a drunk dri-

Grabbing the remote, you turn the television off and stand up, shaking your limbs out in an effort to rid yourself of the anxious feeling that's been growing inside of you.

You make yourself a quick microwave dinner and wolf it down in a few minutes, before trudging upstairs and hopping in the shower. You take your time washing the dust off of your body, and only emerge when the hot water runs out.

Even after cleaning yourself off and climbing into a fresh set of sheets, sleep doesn't come easily. The minutes tick by slowly as you stare at the ceiling, and before you can overthink it, you grab your phone off your nightstand and hit the first number on your speed dial.

It rings twice before the line connects. "Is everything okay?"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you ask, huffing out a laugh as you sit up in your bed.

Hotch grunts quietly. "Hello." You can hear the tiredness in his voice, but he sounds alert. You didn't wake him up. "What can I do for you?"

"So I have to need something to call you?"

"Y/N."

"Sorry for wanting to talk to my friend-"

He sighs so loudly, you can practically see his eyes rolling. "Are you going to tell me why you called or not."

"I helped Elle move out today."

That gets his attention. "How is she doing?"

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "As good as can be expected. We threw out almost all of her stuff, you know. She ended up with just a suitcase and three boxes at the end."

"That's just her way of coping, I guess."

"When we got to her house, it was..." You pause for a beat. You don't know the correct way to bring this up. "Well, it was clean. The blood was gone."

He doesn't say anything, and you know you were right. "Hotch, it was you, wasn't it."

He exhales quietly, as though he's trying to control his volume. Shit, maybe Haley's sleeping next to him. This is why you don't call someone after midnight.

"She didn't need to see a crime scene in her own home."

You wonder if he knows how he sounds right now. How caring and compassionate he can be when he doesn't try to tamp down that side of himself.

"You're a good unit chief," you say, leaning your head back against your wooden headboard. "I don't know why you keep things like this hidden."

You do know why, but that isn't what's important right now. There's a small creaking sound over the receiver and you imagine he's getting out of bed and crossing the room. Then the click of a door closing. "All that matters is that it's done."

You can't control the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. "Who are you trying to kid, Hotch? This is me you're talking to. I know how you worry that you aren't setting a good example for the team, but it's things like this that go a long way. It really wouldn't hurt for the team to see you showing some emotion."

"That's what they have you for," he says, his voice tightening the slightest bit. "They don't need that from me. When my emotions get in the way, I can't do my job properly."

You scoff. "And what job is that, exactly?"

"Keeping you safe."

He doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel his anger. "If I had kept my emotion out of it, I wouldn't have sent her home. I wouldn't have let you accompany her, and I wouldn't have put both of you in danger."

Your hand comes up, rubbing circles into the skin above your chest. "Aaron...that wasn't on you." You can sense his protests coming, so you try a different tactic. "It wasn't on me either. No one but Garner deserves any blame for what happened."

The line is silent for a few moments, and you take the little victory. "I'm sorry I called you so late."

"Oh, it's alright," he chuckles. "You know I was up anyway."

***

She came back too quickly. You can't get the thought out of your head as you watch Elle restlessly tap her foot on the ground as she waits for the final word on whether she will be acting as bait for the serial rapist.

You don't think she's ready, and you've made your opinion known to the team, but Gideon made up his mind quickly.

"You think Elle's ready for it?"

"We'll be there for her."

You watch her vigilantly from Hotch's SUV as she enters the house and drops her keys on the table by the window. She's wired, which is a small relief, but Gideon's instruction not to have her gun on her has you more anxious than you'd like.

"Why isn't she leaving?" Hotch says from next to you, echoing your thoughts.

A car driven by a man fitting the profile pulls up on the opposite side of the street and you hear Morgan dialing Garcia. After a few seconds, he's back on the line. "William Lee. It's him."

"Bingo," Gideon's voice exclaims through your earpiece. "She's on the move."

You turn away from the car and see Elle exiting the front of the house. She glances at the man on her way to her car in the driveway, and it's only then that you notice the gun stuffed in her waistband.

"Her gun's out," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What's she doing?"

"She's panicking."

"We've got no reason to bring him in."

"Don't blow it, don't blow it."

A chorus of yells echo through your earpiece as Elle stomps down the drive and points her gun at the unsub. "FBI, put your hands where I can see them!"

You throw open the car door and run over to apprehend the man as he fervently denies all of her accusations. "I was just stopping to look at my map."

The police put him into an interrogation room back at the station, where Hotch and Gideon try to get him to confess by showing empathy for this motive. It seems to be going well until his lawyer shows up, putting an end to the conversation.

She's been tense all day, so you're not surprised when Elle blows up. "You're letting him walk?"

Gideon is the first to step in. "Back off, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done," she yells, as though trying to reason with the police. The pain in her voice is palpable, but you can't deny the truth, even if you aren't able to voice it to her.

Hotch doesn't face the same issue. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" she fires back, her anger redirecting to fly in his direction.

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot."

All of the air leaves the room. You grab Elle's arm and pull her back, expecting more resistance than you get. "Walk with me."

She follows you across the hall and into a little meeting room that's scattered with evidence bags and files from the case. You let the door click shut behind her before you start speaking. "You need to take a breath. I know you, Elle. I know exactly what you're capable of. You just need to give yourself time to heal."

The fury in her eyes hasn't abated since you apprehended Lee a few hours earlier. You're not sure it will in this environment. "Take a walk. Get some air, and then come back."

She doesn't meet your eye as she pushes past you and storms out of the station.

***

"There's no reason for us to stick around anymore, is there?"

Gideon shakes his head and you purse your lips, glancing at the doors behind you. You haven't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen, but you suppose that's a common notion on this team.

"Wheels up at noon tomorrow."

You're walking out to the parking lot with the team when the feeling hits you again. The last time you felt this level of dread was right before you got the call from organized crime just over two years ago.

Your fears are confirmed when Hotch's phone rings with a call from the local PD that they have Elle at Lee's address. The drive over is silent, and even though you're always the first to call Hotch out on his guilt spirals, you can't get the thought out of your head that this is all your fault. You knew she had come back too quickly. Never mind that it wasn't your call. You should've fought it harder.

Lee's bullet-riddled body is like a beacon of your guilt as Elle insists it was cut-and-dry self defense. "I was having a conversation with him and he drew his weapon and I fired."

The police don't let any of you talk to her as they load her into the back of their cruiser, but you know what you have to do if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

"I'm going to the station," you tell Hotch before flagging down another one of the officers on the scene. He moves to stop you, but you sidestep him and level him with a glare that high school you would have been proud of. "I have to do this."

The station doesn't finish processing her until halfway through the night, but you couldn't fall asleep even if you wanted to. When they finally remove her cuffs and bring her out, you stand up from the plastic chair you spent the last four hours in and stretch out your legs.

She doesn't spot you immediately, but when she does, her body almost deflates. "I'm fine, L/N. You didn't have to come here."

She stops in front of you, her jacket hanging over her arm as she stuffs her badge back into her pocket. If you didn't know her so well, you would be surprised by how relaxed she looks. You wouldn't recognize the front she has had up since she stepped off the plane.

"What happened, Elle?"

That catches her attention, and you watch as the mask slips by a hair. "You don't believe me?"

You don't want to accuse her of something you have no evidence of, but you also can't ignore all of the signs in front of you. "Can you really look me in the eye and say you didn't go there hoping Lee would provoke you?"

She just looks at you, and you watch in real time as the mask slides back into place. Without another word, she turns around and walks out of the station.

***

The next case doesn't come until a few days later. Elle gets cleared by the bureau's internal investigation, but you can't imagine Hotch won't tack on a psych eval just to be safe.

"Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago."

JJ clicks her remote and the screen in the conference room changes, displaying the crime scene photos.

"God," you curse, averting your eyes for a moment. "He's just a child."

"Blunt force trauma to the head," she continues with a forlorn sigh. "He's the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunter found his body in the woods."

Morgan looks down at the case file. "First victim's name: Robbie Davis. Are these boys connected somehow?"

JJ shrugs. "Ozona's population's roughly 2, 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well if they weren't linked before, they most certainly are now."

Hotch and Gideon's absences from the conference room don't escape your notice, so you keep an eye out for them upon leaving the briefing.

You spot them discussing something in hushed whispers by the coffee station, and you wait for them to finish before you approach Hotch.

"You missed the briefing."

His eyes pinch, and you notice that the lines in his forehead are more prominent than usual. "What is it?"

"Elle missed her evaluation."

Your breath releases like a sigh. "I can check her apartment."

"No," he says matter-of-factly, with a shake of his head. "Gideon wants all of you in Texas for this one. I'll go look for her."

You would normally argue, but the horrific images from the briefing are still imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

He leaves you with a nod, and you grab your go-bag before following the rest of the team to the jet.

"You guys see Elle's cleared?" Reid pipes up as soon as the plane takes off.

Derek nods, his lips thinning. "Self defense."

"So it was a good shot."

"She hit what she was aiming for."

Reid frowns. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"If they cleared her how come she's not here with us?" You glance up and realize Reid is looking at you. "Or Hotch?"

You don't want to reveal more than is necessary, especially when the situation is this precarious and personal, but you're saved from responding when Gideon turns around and yells, "Focus on the case!"

JJ turns the conversation back to the unsub's motivations, and you all discuss a possible profile until a new female victim emerges that strays from the previous victimology.

Gideon doesn't waste any time delegating tasks. "When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl."

He turns to you. "We'll look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found."

The murder site is so far into the woods, that you can't help but imagine what it would've been like to be the little boy who was brought all the way out here with no hope of return. You can't believe that a young child would come this far out of their way unless they trusted the person they were following. "I think the victims knew their killer."

Gideon seems to be on the same train of thought. "They followed him to this spot."

"What makes you think that?" the local officer asks.

Gideon looks at you expectantly, and you take the invitation with a grateful nod. "Well I guess they went this deep into the woods because they trusted him. He probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. This means we're looking for someone intelligent, methodical."

The police officer accompanying you doesn't look sure of your assessment. "He bashed the kid's head in, it looks like a moment of rage to me!"

"I agree," Gideon muses, turning away and looking further into the woods. "It doesn't make any sense."

After informing the town's parents of the five PM curfew, and the children of the new buddy system in place, you excuse yourself to go call Hotch for an update.

"Anything new?" you ask when he answers the phone.

"I went to her appartment to talk to her," he explains, "but she was leaving with an overnight bag."

Your heart collapses in your chest. "She's running."

"I don't know, I hope not." He pauses for a beat. "I'm following her."

"All right," you sigh, wishing there was more you could do from here, "I really hope I'm wrong about this."

He's silent for a second, and you realize your slip up. "I just mean, I don't want to- I mean, fuck."

"I know," Hotch whispers. You can hear his car starting in the background. "But Gideon's right. She's innocent until proven guilty."

He ends the call with a promise to keep you updated, and you head back to the station, where another child has been reported missing. The missing boy's little brother draws your attention to a local legend that leads you to a Mr. Fennigan's so-called "haunted" house up in the hills.

***

"Garcia," you say into your phone before putting it on speaker and setting it down at the table you're sitting at. After establishing that Finnegan's house was empty, you and team have been searching the property for any indications that he's the unsub. "You got anything for me?"

"Only that Fennigan's house on the hill is like the Bates Motel of Ozona, Texas."

You roll your eyes, even though she can't see you. "We heard the legend from that counselor, Charles I think."

"Be careful, though," she says, her voice going lower as though she's telling a campfire story. "People that go into that house supposedly never come out."

"Garcia."

"But then there is that matter of his missing wife."

Deciding to humor her, you clear your throat and whisper, "Do you think she's still on the premises?"

"I got two words for you, my friend: 'rear window'. That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious bitesize pieces."

You suppress a laugh. "Pen, do you really think that's gonna scare me?"

She huffs and you grin, tugging open one of the drawers next to you and peeking inside.

"You're no fun. Reid was scared shitless."

"He's just afraid of the dark," you smile, before your eyes catch on something bright under the table beside you. "Garcia, I gotta go. And cut Reid some slack."

"No promises, Mama."

You tuck your phone away and reach below the table, where you find a small pink backpack with the last victim's name scrawled on top in Sharpie. "Guys! I found something."

The clues from Finnegan's house lead you back to Charles, the town's guidance counselor, and then to his son, who the police are able to catch in the act of luring away Tracey Belle, another young girl. You don't relax until she's back with her parents, and even then, there's still a tension in your shoulders.

Cases involving children never get easier, but you can't help the kinship you feel to little Tracey Belle, who had the same look in her eyes that you recognized in yourself when you were ten years old. You don't remember your mom's funeral much, mostly because you were so young, but also because the whole day was a blur. The few flashes that come back here and there are your father's eyes, red from crying, and the cold gray of the headstone that you visited with him every year on the anniversary until you graduated.

The plane ride back is morose, and no one looks up from their reading material until it's time to disembark. Hotch isn't at the office when you drop off your case file, so you rub the exhaustion from your eyes and drive home.

There's a figure sitting on your porch when you pull into your driveway, and you're a moment from panicking when her face comes into the light.

"I turned in my badge," Elle says after you lock your car and walk up the steps.

Something twists in your gut, but the one emotion you aren't feeling is surprise. "Do you want to come inside? How long have you been waiting?"

She shakes her head, and you give her some time to formulate her thoughts. After a minute, she meets your eye again. "You were kind to me."

You don't know what to say, but you can see the change in her since just last week. She already looks lighter, and you can't help but think about how heavy the job can be. It's a weight on each of your lives that never seems to let up, and while you're going to be sad to see her go, you understand. It's the right choice.

Elle presses her lips together before curving them into a small smile. "You supported me after...after Garner. I'm gonna miss you."

You smile at her, even as your heart fills with sadness. "i'm going to miss you too."

Her body shifts like she's making to leave but then she turns back one last time. "You're too good for him, you know."

You get the sense that you know what she's referring to, but it's not something you can acknowledge without sending a flare shooting up your spine. She nods once, like that's all she wanted to say, and turns away into the night. You blink your eyes closed, squeezing them tightly as though it will somehow make the last few months a nightmare you can wake up from. But that's not how this works.

You give yourself a minute to pretend, but when you open your eyes again, she's gone.

***

The case that takes you to Golconda, Nevada feels almost unique to Gideon, as he takes each of the unsub's decisions personally in a way you haven't seen before.

Once you give the profile to the local police, the sheriff, Georgia Davis, leads you to a woman with a story to match the previous victimology.

"Jane," she says softly as she walks into the holding area at the back of the station. "These people are from the FBI. I'd like you to tell them your story."

Her story takes you through a tale of alien abductions and young love, but the kernel of truth underneath sounds awfully similar to the unsub's M.O. Her eyes still shine with a childlike tenacity that you don't usually see in other victims of such prolific and disturbing killers.

"Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien," Gideon sighs after Sheriff George sends you all out of the room to let Jane rest. "She didn't show him the fear he wanted, so he let her go."

When it becomes clear that he is still in town, you disperse around the local R.V. park in search of his vehicle.

Hotch pairs you with Emily Prentiss, the new agent who joined the team after Elle left, and you welcome the opportunity to speak with her more than you've gotten the chance to since she arrived.

"How have you been settling in?" you ask her as you both stroll along the edge of the R.V. park.

"The team has been very welcoming," she says as she continues to scan the vehicles around you. "I'm just glad to be joining such an accomplished unit."

"That's kind of you," you smile, noting the extreme focus in her eyes. Her intelligence and intense concentration on each of the cases you've worked made much more sense when you learned about her history. Her background must have sparked more than a few nepotism claims over the years, so you don't mind letting her overcompensate, if it means she will prove to herself that she deserves to be here. "Everyone seems to like having you around. I certainly don't mind."

She shoots you a smile that you return by patting her forearm comfortingly. You were worried it would be hard for another agent to settle into the space Elle left on the team, but Prentiss has made easy work of it. She has the same humor as Derek and Penelope, and you've seen how well she gets along with you and JJ. Even Reid has welcomed her with open arms.

"This team is kind of famous," she says after a moment, piquing your interest.

"Oh?"

She shrugs, turning into another row of vehicles. "You've all been through so much, but it just seems to have made you more of a family."

When you first joined the team, that was all you wanted. You were by yourself, completely alone, and the team had become your family in the blink of an eye. It was exactly what you needed. These days, you're not so sure anymore. More family just means more people to lose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You look at her with a nod. "Yeah, of course."

"It's about Agent Hotchner."

You should've figured. Every new agent tries to vie for his approval, until they realize it's not something you can force. "Yeah?"

She sighs, and you can tell this isn't something she wants to be talking about. "I don't know if I understand him. You're the only person who seems to have his ear. I guess I'm just wondering how I can do the same."

"I got his attention and respect through decades of friendship," you say, watching her eyes widen as you speak. "But he's not the enigma you may think he is. Showing off won't help your cause, but working hard and doing your job well is all you can really do."

She nods, taking in your words. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

You smile, bumping her shoulder to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about him. He knows your worth, I can tell."

Prentiss leans against you for a moment before shaking out her legs and turning back to the lot. "I don't think the unsub is here. We should meet up with the rest of the team."

Once Gideon puts it together that the unsub is hiding out somewhere in town, Hotch suggests that you all turn in for the night, but the older man doesn't want to listen.

"We could wait till first light, Gideon," he stresses, turning his body to stand between him and the officers. "It's gonna be dark soon."

"Do what you like," Jason grunts, shoving past him. "I'm gonna find him."

Hotch starts to go after him, but you step forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. Maybe the walk back to the station will help clear his head."

He sighs heavily, and you know it's all the agreement you're going to get right now. "Let's head over there too. He needs our help if he wants to crack this before morning."

The stress lines on his forehead are almost as noticeable as they were the day Elle left the bureau, and you grab his wrist as he tries to turn away. You raise your eyebrows, knowing he'll be able to read the question written in the ridges of your face. How are you holding up?

Hotch rolls his neck to the side, stretching it out after what has been a very long day. When he looks back at you, you wait for a nod that comes after a moment. Alright. Been better, but alright.

Back at the station, the work is slow going, and you don't feel like anyone is helping with how uptight Gideon is acting. The air inside the small building has started to feel suffocating, and you finally get your chance to escape when Sheriff George grabs her car keys.

"I'm gonna take Jane home," she tells you when you approach her at her desk. "It's been a long night, and she needs to sleep in her own bed."

"You need to rest too," you say, noticing the droop of her eyes from sheer exhaustion. "Go home, Sheriff. I'll take her back. I remember her address from earlier."

She doesn't look convinced, so you lean in with a smile. "It's getting really stuffy in here. I need some air too."

That's all it takes to satisfy her, and she pats your arm with a nod before handing you the keys to the cruiser and walking to the exit.

You only see Morgan as you pick Jane up from the holding area, so you tell him you'll be back in a half hour and head out to the back lot.

"How long have you been living in this town?" you ask Jane as you make the short drive to her house.

"Since I was a teenager," she says dreamily, her eyes gazing out the window.

"You never wanted to live anywhere else?"

She shakes her head profusely. "Why would I? This is where I can be found."

You frown at her words, but it's not the oddest thing she has said today. When you arrive at her house, you park the cruiser out front and lead her up the porch steps, where she slowly unlocks the front door. "Do you want to come inside?"

You figure it wouldn't hurt to scope out the place, so you accept her invitation and follow her inside. "This is a beautiful home, Jane." Trinkets are scattered everywhere, and rudimentary sketches cover the walls.

"Thank you," she responds from another room. "You're very nice." You follow the sound of her voice to her kitchen, where she is struggling to lift a pitcher of juice from her fridge.

"Here, let me help you," you say, taking it from her and setting it down on the little breakfast table in front of her stove. "Do you have any cups?"

She walks over to a cupboard across from you, and you unclip your side-holster and set it on the table until the sound of a footstep behind you makes you spin on your heels.

You're assaulted by the sight of a tall, white man, who you immediately recognize from Gideon's profile earlier that day.

"Jane!" you yell, inching toward the table where your gun is. "I need you to run."

"Come with me, Jane," the man says, ignoring you completely. You use the moment of distraction to reach for your gun, but he's quicker than you. A sharp pinprick of pain shoots down your neck as your hand knocks over the pitcher of juice and your limbs suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds.

"Jane, he's a murderer," you yell, hoping your voice doesn't sound as quiet as it does in your head. Your vision is already blurry, and you wish Reid was here to distract you by spouting off a list of fast-acting drugs from memory. "Jane, run!"

The last thing you hear before you black out is the sound of hurried footsteps receding into the background.

***

None of this makes sense. As each minute ticks by, he can't shake the feeling that they are missing something that's right under their noses.

"JJ just called," Morgan says, walking back into the station with his phone waving in his hand. "Apparently an anonymous caller called the tip line and claimed they saw an R.V. driven by a man who fits the description we gave to the media."

Hotch frowns. "Claimed?"

"Well, not a single R.V. or trailer has passed through any of the roadblocks."

Morgan's words click in his brain, and he instinctively glances beside him as an idea forms, but you aren't there. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't seen you in over an hour.

"Who does the number belong to?" he asks, shifting his focus back.

Morgan is about to respond when Deputy Silo runs into the office, shoving past the other cops in his way. "We got a call from outside Jane's house. I think it was from the unsub."

Hotch stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and gun, but next to him, Morgan stills, his face going slack.

"We need to head over there now," Hotch says, listing off a few instructions to the deputies nearby. Where are you?

"Hotch."

"And have some of your guys check in town," he continues, "in case he took her with him."

"Hotch."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"L/N drove Jane home."

His heart drops.

***

Just stay for a few more minutes, Jeff implores, his fingers dancing over your arm as you try to sit up.

You laugh as he tries to pull you back into the bed. I can't, I have to go into work.

Just five minutes, I promise. He pouts as you slide your legs out from under the covers. Three. One. One minute, please. I miss you.

I miss you too, you sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips. I'll see you tonight.

His hands reach up to caress your face, like he always does in the mornings. Cupping your cheek with his palm and running his fingers through your hair.

You settle into the feeling, wishing you had more time to just lay in bed with him. But you don't. Because Jeff's not here anymore.

Your eyes snap open right as the unsub tapes your mouth closed.

***

His hands grip the steering wheel as his SUV barrels up the small country road leading to Jane's house. He can't seem to press the gas pedal hard enough, and Reid's incessant foot-tapping in the backseat is driving him crazy, even though he understands the anxiety coursing through his body.

He beats Deputy Silo to the house, and flies out of the car without waiting for the other agents to open their doors. He's not sure what he's expecting to see inside as he pulls his gun from his waist holster, but he doesn't give himself a chance to think about it before kicking the door in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Morgan yells from behind him as he checks around the door and makes his way through the small hallway. The house is silent, aside from the footsteps of the agents behind him, but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears is almost deafening.

"Clear," he shouts after checking each room up to the kitchen. When he steps inside, there's juice all over the floor, and he spots the pitcher on its side beside the fridge. Juice, not blood.

His eyes flash to the table and his breath catches in his throat. He would recognize your holster anywhere, especially since he was with you when you bought it.

What do you think? It's not too bold, is it?

I definitely wouldn't mess with you.

"Why didn't she reach for her gun?" he wonders out loud.

"Because she couldn't." He turns around to see Reid holding up a large, empty syringe he found under the table.

He can't take his eyes off the juice on the floor, splattered everywhere as though someone had knocked it off the counter. The image of Elle's blood spilled all over her living room is still fresh in his mind, and he can't get over how easily the dark red cranberry juice seeping into the floorboards could have been yours.

Growing up, it was a common occurrence for you to patch him up and wash the blood off his skin, but there was only one time when he had to return the favor.

He still remembers the proud glint in your eyes after you had literally head-butted a man who had grabbed you in a college bar by Georgetown. Already a year into law school, he would've thought you'd have more forethought than to injure yourself in the hopes of getting back at the jackass, but once he saw your bloody grin, his annoyance had fizzled away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he had asked as you stuck a scrap of napkin up your nostrils to control the flow after the head-butt broke a few blood vessels in your nose. He hadn't seen you much throughout undergrad, but he was glad that you hadn't changed too much, even if it meant you were just as wild as before. "I'm getting you ice."

A few minutes of angry haggling later, he returned to your side with a small bag of ice that he held to the bridge of your nose. Nothing he said could have ruined your mood that night, especially since the man had been kicked out of the bar and banned for life.

"Did you see the look on his face?" you had asked, your eyes twinkling behind the quickly melting ice.

"I did," he sighs, before breaking into a grin. "I'm just glad that your future law degree will give you another method of retaliation against scumbags like him."

You had laughed then, causing a few drops of blood to spray out of your nose, but all he could think about as he jerked back to avoid the mess was how happy he was that you were back in his life again.

Hotch flies back to the conversation happening around him, his brain refusing to let him imagine the worst case scenario.

"Those footprints," Morgan is saying as he starts listening again, "they got to be Jane's."

Reid nods, following along. "They go to the back."

"She escapes. The unsub knows the ketamine's gonna wear off, so he's got to act."

"No," one of the deputies says. "He hasn't got what he came here for."

His voice returns to him all at once. "So he took Y/N for leverage."

"He thinks we have Jane. Which means he wants a trade."

"Whatever he wants, we need to find Jane and your agent fast."

His agent. He feels sick at the thought of whatever that man is doing to you. "Garcia can track the phone number from the anonymous caller. You go to town, we'll find Jane."

***

Your eyes are blurry as you try to clear the fogginess in your head from whatever he injected you with. You can see the shape of the unsub moving around the room, and you squint your eyes to get a better look at the anatomical posters and drawings on the walls.

When your vision begins to focus again, the man comes toward you with a smile. "You're awake." He reaches forward to check the tape on your wrists and you try to jerk away from him, but your body is still flowing with the drug. You can't move as he brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles down at you, a sinister lack of emotion in his eyes. You stop trying to move, realizing it's no use. He's been doing this for years. Mutilating women. Cutting them to pieces.

You can feel your heart rate increasing, and you try not to look at the knives and saws littering the tables around you in an effort to keep yourself calm. Your team is looking for you. Derek knows where you went.

When he grabs your arms and starts lifting you off the makeshift operating table you were lying on, you try to scream, but the tape just pulls at your lips, tearing at the thin skin underneath.

Your eyes widen as he drops you into a metal coffin-like box, but he just looks at you with a shake of his head. "No need for that," he tsks before closing the lid over you, enveloping you in eery darkness.

***

Reid and Prentiss help him inspect Jane's house further for clues as to where the unsub could've taken you. The wind chimes of rib bone blowing in the breeze on the front porch catch his attention almost immediately.

His chest feels tight and he clears his throat. "He's obviously been here before and left these gifts for her."

"How romantic," Prentiss grimaces.

"Well, his version of romance."

Prentiss frowns. "What, are you trying to say you think he keeps coming back here because he's in love with her?"

"That's impossible," Reid interjects. "A sexual sadist can't feel love."

"Well," he says, "define love." He doesn't know if he can. He knows he loves Haley and Jack. He likes to think he always wants to be with them, but when a particularly excruciating case arrives on his desk, his desire to catch the bad guy trumps everything else in his mind. He knows he will always try to protect them from anyone or anything that wants to do them harm, but is that love?

It must be, because he feels the same instinct to protect you, but it manifests in him differently.

"Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin."

Of course that would be Reid's answer.

He continues rattling off a list of foods that contain these chemicals, and Hotch tunes him out, turning back to the house. They're missing something, they have to be. It's not until they spot a small trailer out back that it clicks.

***

You don't know how much time passes until the effects of the drug finally wear off enough for you to rub your wrists together to loosen the tape around them. The noises outside the coffin stopped a while ago, and you assume the man has left, likely to resume his search for Jane.

When the tape finally breaks, you let out a relieved gasp and let your arms rest for a few moments, before you begin slamming your fists into the bottom of the lid. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard you pound at it, so you change tactics, instead clawing your fingers at the seams in search of a hinge or screw you can loosen.

You're still trying to pry open the lid when you hear a muffled voice speaking outside the coffin. Despite your determination to stay calm, your heart squeezes in your chest as you bring your hands up to fight back in case he opens the lid. You feel someone slide your box across the floor, before opening the top and flooding your eyes with light.

When you adjust to the brightness, you see the familiar faces of Hotch, Reid, and Prentiss standing above you, and you almost cry with relief. Hotch reaches down with a small "thank god" and pulls you up and out of the coffin. Prentiss carefully peels the tape off your mouth, wincing as some of the skin of your lips comes away with it.

When you're standing up again, your legs give out as the fear leaves you, and you collapse into Hotch.

He catches you easily, holding you against him tightly as you shake from the sheer relief of being found before something irreversible happened. You're acutely aware of your teammates watching you hang onto your unit chief as though your life depends on it, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

It's only after your hands stop shaking that he finally pulls away.

***

When you return from Texas, most of the team heads straight home, but Gideon hangs back, calling you into his office.

"How are you doing after today?" he asks as you shut the door behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Fine," you say simply, looking him straight in the eye. You're not sure exactly what you're feeling, but it definitely isn't fine. The few times your eyes fell closed on the flight back, you could still feel Frank's fingers pressing the tape onto your face.

Gideon scrutinizes you for a moment, his brow crinkling as he waits for you to elaborate. You can appreciate his intention, but you really don't feel like talking about it right now. Not when the memory of the cold metal on your skin is still fresh.

"Okay," he concedes after a minute of silence. It's not really a concession - you can already hear him recommending you for a psych evaluation - but it's enough for the moment. "You don't have to do it right away, but you need to eventually fill out an incident report. I can get you the paperwork now, but I mean it, take your time."

He reaches into his accordion file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper that's mostly blank, except for a few lines at the top. "Just hand it in to me or Hotch when you're done."

You accept the paper and leave his office, with a promise to head home soon. You heard his suggestion to finish it in your own time, but you can't imagine coming back to this at a later date.

Dropping into your chair, you lay the paper down on your desk and read over the form. The first section is the same as every other form you've had to fill out at the bureau: name, date, badge number.

The second half is just one line of instruction before a vast sea of white space. Describe the incident in detail.

Images from Frank's workshop flash in your mind. A roll of silver duct tape. A bloody washcloth. A rusted scalpel. Nothing you can effectively put onto paper.

The words don't come, even as the lights in the hallway automatically turn off, and the hushed voices from the nearby offices go silent. You eventually stand up to shake out your legs and get another coffee, not because you need it to stay awake, but because it feels like the normal thing to do. The idea of sleeping just takes you back to the darkness of the coffin, and a shudder runs through you as you pour yourself a cup and dump the muddy remains of the pot in the sink.

You're about to head back to your desk to fruitlessly stare at the form for a little while longer, when your eye catches on a small lamplight from Hotch's office at the top of the stairs. Gulping back a mouthful of stale coffee, you toss the rest in the trash and grab your report before hiking up the stairs.

"You're still here?" he asks when you knock on his door and push it open. "I thought you left hours ago."

The same question Gideon asked you earlier is etched into his face, but you know he won't voice it just yet. He was always good about knowing your boundaries (and when to push them).

"I could ask you the same thing," you smile with a shrug, before flopping down into the chair by his desk. "You really need to replace this chair, by the way. It's horribly uncomfortable."

He snorts quietly. "It's a perfectly fine chair."

You laugh, the sound quickly turning into a yawn.

"Go home," he stresses, dropping his pen and fixing you with a pointed stare.

"You first."

"I have work to do."

"So do I."

He looks down at the paper in your hands. "Gideon gave you the form already? I was going to give it you in a few days."

"I'm glad he gave it to me today," you say, before dropping your eyes with a sigh. "I've just been having some trouble finding the words to describe what happened."

"You don't have to do it now..." he starts, but you cut him off.

"I do. I don't want to come back to this later. I need to finish it now, while I still can."

"Okay," he accepts after a moment. "Then take your time. I'll be here."

You fall into a comfortable silence as you bring your pen back down and start writing.

***

He doesn't finish his own paperwork until well after midnight. When he looks up from his reports, you're asleep, your head resting on your crossed arms over his desk.

He would normally wake you and tell you to head home, but you look so peaceful for the first time in too long. Haley and Jack would have gone to bed hours ago, so he figures it won't hurt to stay with you for at least a little while as you get some much needed rest. He can't imagine that sleep has been coming easy - he saw you shaking yourself awake each time you closed your eyes on the plane - so he lets you slumber.

He still hasn't gotten the image of you with your hands and mouth taped out of his head, and he doesn't know if he ever will. When your legs had given out, his arms had instinctively shot forward to grab you before his brain could catch up. He can barely look at the bandages on your wrist now, where the tape rubbed your skin raw.

Standing up from his chair, he slides his suit jacket down his arms and steps around his desk. Being extra careful not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders and lets you sleep.

***

Hotch gives you the next week off, but the quiet solitude of your house is too much to bear with all of the memories swirling through your brain. You know he would have called you if there was a case out of town, so a few evenings later, you find yourself in your car, driving over to the Virginia field office.

When you walk into the bullpen, it's empty aside from Reid at his desk and Prentiss at the coffee station. It's late, and you assume Reid is just taking some notes down from the last case, but you aren't sure why Emily is still here.

"Hey," she says when she sees you sit at your desk. "Don't you have the week off?"

She looks exhausted, but you understand where she's coming from. The urge to overcompensate for being new. For not being the agent you're replacing. You felt it with Gideon when you were transferred here. She likely feels it with Elle.

"I needed to get out of the house," you explain, adjusting your seat and settling back.

"I hear that," she says, before putting a lid on her coffee cup and grabbing her bag. "I should actually go home for once, but I'll see you in a few days."

Spencer doesn't look up from his notepad until the sound of the door closing behind Emily jerks him from his stupor.

"You're here," he states, as though he's not sure if he is supposed to be asking a question or not. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, smiling at him. For a genius, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. "I wanted to see you guys."

"Oh," he says, placing his pen on his desk, "well, it's just me here."

You grin. "Works for me."

That makes him smile slightly, but it falls in an instant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Thanks, Spence, me too."

You expect him to return to his notes, but he just looks down and back up again. "Are you? Okay?"

You frown, more out of a lack of understanding, but he starts backtracking immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't press-"

"It's fine," you reassure, pressing your lips together. "It's what everyone's thinking anyway."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you continue to fill the silence. "You just can't let the stares get to you."

"How, though?" he says after a beat. You're not sure what he's asking, but the confusion you're feeling must be mirrored in your expression, because he elaborates. "Ever since my mom came here for the Garner case, I feel like everyone has been looking at me, with all this...pity."

Your chest squeezes as you think about all of the lingering stares that followed him around in the week after Garner killed himself. Even Morgan couldn't hide his shock when Mrs. Reid showed up at the field office. "Have I?"

He shakes his head, and your chest relaxes with relief. Spencer glances up at you, and he looks so young for a second. "You're one of the few who hasn't."

"I guess I just understand the stares better than anyone," you sigh, feeling the familiar ache as your memories return to you in flashes.

You hear him suck in a breath as the realization dawns on him. "Agent Adler..."

You nod and Reid gives you a second to take a breath before he continues. "He was my instructor once, you know. At the academy."

You smile as your eyes shine with unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

There's this kid in my hand-to-hand combat seminar.

Kid?

He can't be more than 20, maybe 21 years old. But the kid has guts.

You remember those nights before Jeff joined organized crime so fondly these days. The calm before the storm.

"He never treated me differently."

You look up with a sad smile, the memory receding as Spencer shares his own. "Hotch made me take a few physical training classes at the academy after I joined. All the other instructors acted like I was a joke, or a prank being pulled on them...but he never did."

That doesn't surprise you. Jeff was so nurturing and kind, much better than you ever were before you met him.

"I really miss him sometimes," he whispers softly.

You reach forward and press your hand on top of his. He doesn't pull back. "Me too, kid."

***

You can't remember the last time the team went out together. There was one night, what feels like years ago, when you all got dinner together after an especially cut-and-dry case that ended within the first day you arrived on scene. When the cases are long and hard-fought, it's not the same; everyone bolts the minute the jet hits the tarmac.

Tonight, something feels different. There hasn't been a new case in a couple of weeks, and everyone seems lighter.

"I'm back," Haley smiles, carefully setting two drinks down on the little high top table you are crowded around. "Spicy marg for Emily, and mojito for me."

You're still nursing the old fashioned you ordered a half hour ago, and Hotch is only halfway through his pint of Guinness.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks, before putting the straw in her mouth and taking a large sip.

"She means is he being nice to you," you grin, cocking your head at Hotch as he shoots you a look of mock-offense. You know I'm right.

He flashes his eyes. And?

"Everyone has been incredibly nice," she says with a smile as a waitress approaches you with a drink in her hand.

She sets it on the table in front of you and glances behind her. "That man over there bought this for you."

Haley starts hooting before the waitress has a chance to leave the vicinity. She's definitely starting to feel her mojito, but you would never judge her on her one night away from the baby.

"That was weird," you say, hoping you don't look as awkward as you feel.

Haley leans forward and grabs your hand, an earnest smile on her face. "You should go talk to him! Only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, it's your night off," Emily agrees, shooting you a smirk over the rim of her margarita.

"I don't know, guys," you say, sliding the drink to the center of the table.

You can tell Haley isn't done encouraging you to have a wild night, so you brace yourself for the pounce, but thankfully, Hotch stands up just as she's opening her mouth, and takes her hand. "Come on, honey, let's go show them how it's done."

"Oh!" she smiles, her face lighting up as she follows him onto the dance floor. "You ladies don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you grin, before downing the last of your original drink.

Emily watches them shimmy into the crowd, her chin resting on her palm. "They are so sweet."

"They've been that way forever," you agree, glancing back over at them as they dance lazily in the center of the dance floor. Haley's movements are a bit looser as she slides through his arms, but he keeps a firm grasp on her hand, keeping her upright even when it looks like she may fall.

He still looks at her the same way he did in high school, when he saw her at that first rehearsal for Pirates of Penzance. There's so much wonder in his eyes, like he's seeing her for the first time, every time.

***

You should be happier right now. You're done with high school, sitting in a sea of green caps and gowns with all of your friends, but all you can think about is how soon he's going to be gone.

You're going to be at different schools next year. Him at Harvard, you at UCLA, opposite ends of the country, for four years. The gravity of what that means didn't sink in until this very moment, the worst possible timing, because you're supposed to be happy right now.

"High school couldn't end fast enough," the girl next to you grins, her cap decorated with the glittery letters of the school she will be attending next year. "I'm so ready for all of this to be over."

You're not. You force your lips into a smile and let yourself glance a few rows up, just for a moment. When it's just the back of his head, you aren't confronted by the confusing emotions that have been swirling around your brain for the last few months. Of course you would realize you're in love with your best friend a semester before school ends. But that isn't the only reason your timing couldn't be worse.

You wave at your dad in the crowd, you is wearing more school colors than even you are, and he waves back enthusiastically. It distracts you for a moment, but then you face the front again, and your eyes are drawn back to the same place.

He turns back then, with a grin meant just for you, and your heart flutters like it's in a butterfly enclosure. You smile back, more genuine this time, but his attention shifts behind you after a quick nod. You don't have to turn back to know who he's looking at in the stands.

You shouldn't be surprised they got along so well, you practically set them up. After their first date, he seemed lighter than air, giddy with the impatient brush strokes of a first love. The look in his eyes now is the same as it was that day.

How did it go?

I'm gonna marry that girl one day.

You don't know why you had just assumed he was joking around. Hotch never joked about things like this.

Eventually, he turns back around in his seat, and you stare at your hands as you clasp and unclasp them over and over and over again until you no longer feel the cavity in your chest where your best friend used to be.

***

The next case comes in as you're working on your second drink. JJ corrals everyone at the bar into taxis, and sends you all off to the airport where the jet is already fueled and waiting.

"You missed a fun night," you note as Gideon climbs into the plane, a few minutes after the rest of you arrived.

"I had a good time," he says simply, before sitting by himself a few rows over. He hasn't spoken to you since he gave you the incident report, but you know it's not about you. Being forced to let Frank get away was hard on him, but you don't know how to assuage his guilt about your kidnapping if he won't even look at you.

Derek flips open his case file and huffs out a breath. "Well, good time's definitely over."

"The Kyles," JJ says, beginning the briefing as the plane takes off, "Dennis and Lacy were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

You look up, assuming you heard her wrong. "Only an hour ago?"

"Police were on scene unusually fast," she nods.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims."

Prentiss lets out a humorless laugh from across from you. "You're kidding."

"From inside the house."

JJ scans the file again. "According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there."

Gideon enters the conversation with a confused frown. "Sinners?"

"Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed." She holds up a photo of a page that looks torn out of a book.

"Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8."

Gideon sighs. "They're on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing."

***

Gideon was right, as he usually is. The killings don't stop, and videos of the murders are posted online, spreading the killers' message for them.

"JJ, why don't you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr. Hankel and see if he remembers something."

"On it."

Garcia calls almost immediately after they leave. "There's a new video from our psycho."

Hotch stills. "Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

The police officer you met at the first crime scene joins you, Hotch, and Morgan in front of the computer as the video appears on the screen. The first thing you see is the dirty mattress. Then come the dogs.

You avert your eyes as the woman's screams for help fill the room.

"Jezebel's death," Hotch whispers, almost to himself.

"My god," Morgan grimaces. "You can turn it off."

The officer suddenly leans forward. "Oh, wait."

"You haven't seen enough?" Morgan asks, disgust coloring his tone. He has two sisters, both of whom he protects fiercely. You can't imagine what he's thinking about as he watches the screen.

"Those dogs," he says, his voice growing in strength as he speaks. "Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would have had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner."

"You have the owner's name?"

He checks his notepad, flipping through it rapidly. "Hankel."

Your blood runs cold. "Hankel?"

"Tobias Hankel."

You're on your feet before he can finish saying his name.

***

The drive to the Hankel farmhouse is filled with hand wringing and nervous leg bouncing. You keep catching Hotch glancing over at you, but you don't care. You just need him to drive faster.

When he pulls up in front of the house, you and Emily throw your doors open before he can come to a complete stop. Hotch and Gideon head toward the house, so you lead Prentiss and Morgan over to the barn, where you can hear the faint sound of panicked breathing.

Lifting your gun and flashlight, you push open the barn door and are greeted by the sight of JJ pointing her gun at you. "JJ, it's L/N, Prentiss, and Morgan. You're okay."

She looks frenzied, her hair and clothes covered in a layer of sweat and grime. When her flashlight comes down, you notice the dead dogs on the ground.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub," she gasps, stumbling over to you.

"We know, honey," you whisper, taking her arm and leading her outside, before glancing at Emily behind you. "Call an ambulance."

She nods and rushes over to the clearing in search of better cell signal as Derek steps forward, his face still twisted into a worried frown. "JJ, where's Reid?"

"They just completely tore her apart," she babbles, her eyes still frantic even as you put your hands on her shoulders to steady her. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me."

Her eyes snap over to Morgan, and he brings his voice down again. "Where's Reid?"

"We split up," she says, her voice still tight, but slightly calmer. "He said he was going to go in the back."

"House is clear," Hotch calls from behind you, making you spin around, your mouth twisting with dread.

"So where is he?"

JJ's eyes glance back at the cornfield behind the house, and suddenly you're running. You can hear someone calling your name, but all you can think about is Spencer with an unsub who's idea of torture is biblical and cruel.

There are two sets of footprints in the dirt by the edge of the field, but after a few feet, they turn to drag marks. Oh no, oh god no.

***

The whole team - except for Reid, your brain keeps reminding you - sets up in Hankel's house, with even Garcia joining you on the scene to limit communication time.

You can't sleep as you alternate between reading Hankel's journals and hovering over Penelope's shoulder as she pores through his downloaded images and videos. Even as exhaustion pulls at your eyes, you periodically splash your face with water from the bathroom to keep yourself up. If anyone can understand how terrifying it is to be taken by a psychotic killer, it's you. Succumbing to sleep feels like a defeat, like you've given up on him.

You don't find anything useful until after Emily and JJ return from meeting with Tobias's N.A. sponsor, but in the sixth hour of scouring his journal, your brain clicks with a realization. "Guys, some parts of this journal match his father's handwriting. But they were written after he died."

"The bedrooms upstairs..." Gideon mutters, his eyes shifting up like they do when he's thinking. "One of Tobias's personalities may be his father."

Your brow furrows and you look down at the journal in front of you even as your eyes burn with fatigue. "Then who is Raphael?"

"My guess," Gideon sighs, "a mediator between the two."

Hotch looks at you, and you can see the concern etched into his face. "We need to start profiling Tobias's father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Morgan nods. "I'll get Garcia on it."

He leaves the room and Hotch comes over to the table, where you're still staring down at one of the journals. Your hands are covered in pink half-moon indentations where your nails were pressed, and he fights the urge to take you away from here, to save you from this hurt. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, Hotch," you whisper through gritted teeth. He can hear the worry in every word that leaves your mouth. The terror at the prospect of losing the team's youngest profiler.

"You didn't sleep at all last night," he points out gently.

"Neither did you."

You're not wrong. He didn't get a chance to shut his eyes either, but he's used to the sleepless nights. He supposes you are, too.

Your focus returns to the journal, and you don't notice as he slips out of the room and finds Gideon by the front of the house.

"Reid's brilliant," the older man sighs when he notices Hotch, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "He'll make it."

"I take advantage of Reid for his brain," he says softly, "but I never teach him how to handle things emotionally."

Jason shrugs. "Lead by example."

"What kind of example is that?"

For a bunch of criminal psychologists, you all still have no idea how to truly deal with losing people. Maybe that's just how life works. He thinks about the weeks after Jeff's death, when he wasn't sure if you would ever be okay again. Even as he held you while you cried, and promised that you would feel okay someday, he's not sure if he ever actually believed it.

But then one day, your eyes stopped shining at the mention of his name, and you no longer fell apart after each time you had to question a victim's widow.

Even after your mother's death, you were stoic. He remembers holding your hand at the funeral, but your grip was almost stronger than his, like you were holding him up with your sheer willpower to stay upright.

Seeing you now, he's not sure what will happen if Reid doesn't come back. He just knows he doesn't plan on finding out.

He and Gideon rush back inside when Garcia's voice frantically calls for everyone to look at Hankel's monitors. His eyes squint inadvertently as the video feed of Reid tied to a chair lights up the screens in front of them, almost like his brain is trying to block out the image.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but not before a small anguished sound escapes. "He's been beaten."

"This is for us," Garcia whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick," Morgan spits out, before turning around and slamming his fist into the room's wooden door.

Gideon leans closer to the screens, clearly trying to take in any detail he can from the scene. "Why can't you locate him?"

"He's rerouting to a different I.P. address every 30 seconds," Garcia explains, her voice thick through the tears. "I can't track him."

***

The screens shut off and the video feed of Spencer is gone. Penelope starts frantically typing away at the keyboard, likely in an effort to regain the signal, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Your body feels heavy, like there are weights on all of your limbs. Realistically, you know it's mostly the stress and exhaustion, but you can't stop thinking about the frightened look on Reid's face and how he must be feeling.

When you walk back through the house, the sound of a hushed argument in the kitchen catches your attention.

"JJ, what do you want from me?"

You recognize Morgan's voice, and you almost turn away to give them some privacy, but something in JJ's voice as she responds keeps you at the door.

"I just...I want someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't. You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

You're walking inside before you can stop yourself. "Morgan, go help Penelope with the video file."

He looks surprised when he sees you, but he doesn't argue before leaving the room.

JJ rakes a hand through her hair as you approach her slowly. She doesn't shy away as you stand next to her, so you reach out and squeeze her forearm once before pulling back. "I was terrified when Frank took me in Texas."

She looks up with a shocked expression, her eyes finally meeting yours for the first time all day.

"I was terrified," you repeat, "but I never lost hope, because I knew you guys would come for me, no matter what."

Her eyes crinkle with sorrow and you pat her arm again, almost as much for you as for her. "I didn't blame anyone for what happened to me, JJ. Reid isn't blaming you either."

Her lip trembles, and you pull her into a hug as the tears finally come.

***

"Your team members...choose one to die."

Spencer gasps on the grainy computer monitor. "Kill me."

"Tell me who dies."

"No."

The back and forth continues as Hankel stalks toward him and lines his revolver up with Reid's forehead. "Choose."

"I-I choose Aaron Hotchner."

The room stills.

"He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"

Reid's words sink in and you unconsciously reach towards Hotch, but he's already walking out of the room. You follow him into the other room, the rest of the team on your heels.

"I'm not a narcissist," he says, his voice lighter than you're expecting. He grabs a Bible from the table and quickly flips through it, landing on the verse Reid mentioned.

"Come on, look," Gideon urges. "You can't think anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

He waves away everyone's concern. "No. Stop. Stop. All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?"

No one says anything. You can feel Morgan revving up, so you jump in to start things off. "You're a workaholic."

Your mind flashes back to your hometown's library, all the late nights where you would fall asleep in your chair as he worked away into the early hours of the morning. His home was a trigger after his father died, and you could see the guilt eating away at him as he realized he didn't miss his dad as much as he was supposed to. As much as Sean did. The guilt that wore him down as he struggled to figure out how to be there for his brother, when he couldn't understand his pain.

He nods at you then, and there's nothing but determination behind his eyes.

"You're a bully," JJ chimes in.

Morgan adds, "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes."

Hotch is still nodding. "Right."

"You don't trust women as much as men," Emily says, her voice wavering slightly.

"Ok, good," he says, tapping the page with his finger. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever."

"Hotch, what's your point," you whisper, chewing your lip as you anxiously glance back at the screen.

He shushes you with a wave of his hand. "Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

You lean forward, taking the book from him. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."

"Bury my dead," Morgan repeats, his eyes widening. "He's in a cemetery."

***

Hotch heads to the nearest cemetery with Morgan and Gideon, while you follow closely behind, with JJ in the seat next to you and Emily in the back. The drive is short, and you all throw yourselves out of the SUV when you park, as everyone spreads out to search the cemetery.

"Come with me," you tell JJ when you see her eyes flit around the darkness, a slightly panicked expression on her face. "We'll find him."

The wet mulch of the graveyard sinks under your quick footsteps, and you keep your eyes peeled as his name choruses around you, from all of the officers milling around.

The search ends with the sound of a gunshot, and when you get to the source, you nearly collapse with the relief of seeing Hankel on the ground as Reid kneels beside him.

"Spencer," you gasp as the other agents examine Hankel's body. He looks up at the sound of your voice and his face contorts for a second as you kneel in front of him.

A small sound leaves his mouth and suddenly your arms are crushing him to you, your panic ebbing away with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hotch reaches out when you break apart and helps him up before Reid pulls him into a tight hug that surprises everyone. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch tightens his arms for a moment, before they both pull back and JJ throws her arms around Reid. "I'm so sorry."

He pats her back, and for a split second, you can almost imagine he's comforting her, instead of the other way around. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She steps away from him and he asks for a moment alone, so you all move back a few paces, allowing him the time to come to terms with the death of the man who somehow both tortured and saved him. You use the second of space to catch your breath as you will yourself not to let the tears of relief fall.

When Spencer finally stands up, you grab onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you, and you help him over to the ambulance that is waiting by the edge of the cemetery.

"Thank you," you gasp as he sits on the edge of the vehicle, suddenly unable to help yourself.

He frowns, his hair hanging in sweaty pieces in front of his face. "For what?"

"For staying alive."

***

The next case takes you to New York, where you find yourself hyper-vigilant as you watch Spencer try to acclimate to the job again. You can't help but notice the small changes in his demeanor, including the snappiness in his tone as he responds to everyone's questions, but you attribute it to the shock of his kidnapping.

After returning from the city, you decide to take some time to complete the paperwork you've been letting slide. Hotch managed to head home at a decent hour for once, and JJ and Prentiss are no where to be seen, but you spot Morgan twiddling his thumbs at his desk, his eyes darting over to peer at Reid almost as often as yours do.

An hour into scribbling out a case report, you head over to the coffee station to refill your mug. It has cooled down since you made it a couple of hours ago, but it still tastes just how you like it.

Burnt, Hotch's voice grumbles in your head. Even when he's gone, he won't leave you alone.

Topping off your mug, you turn around to get back to work and end up bumping into Reid, who looks worse for wear than he did on the jet.

"Shit, sorry," you smile, trying to get him to meet your eye. "I didn't see you there."

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, before stepping around you.

You don't let him get away that easily. Grabbing his arm, you hold him in place as he tries to wriggle away. "Spencer, don't do that. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I'm fine," he says simply, his expression almost emotionless as he glances back at you over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," you say, putting extra emphasis on your words. "I know what you're feeling. I can help."

His expression shifts into one of animosity and something else you can't place. "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling."

His words are like a slap to the face, and he uses your break in focus to tug himself out of your grip and stalk over to the bathroom around the corner.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to take it personally. He's just been through a horrifying ordeal. No one can expect him to continue on like normal, at least for a little while.

"Something is up with him," Morgan says from his desk, before spinning in his chair to look at the spot where Reid walked away. "He's acting...hostile."

"He's just adjusting," you say quickly, your protective instinct coming out in full force. You close your eyes for a moment to calm your voice down. "This is a normal reaction for what he went through."

Derek doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. You don't even know if you're convincing yourself, because you know why this kind of hostility and irritation manifests: when you're hiding something.

You weren't a particularly crazy teenager, so you didn't have much to hide from your parents, but there was one secret you held until you left for college that manifested in your daily interactions. One secret that changed how you acted around your best friend, how you spoke to him, how you even looked at him.

You push the thought away before turning to stare at the bathroom door as it falls shut behind Reid. You know Morgan's right. You just don't know what to do.

***

"Hey, Reid," Derek says, looking at him with a small smile. "What's going on up there?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

JJ called you at home a few hours ago with the briefing and an instruction to pack for warm weather. Wanting to pack light, you threw on the tank top you planned to wear, and a button-down for the flight. A few cursory glances around the jet tell you that almost everyone else had the same idea. Of course, Hotch is still in his suit, and Reid has on a sweater vest that you're sure he won't take off, even if the temperature skyrockets.

"Really?" Derek asks. "You going to give him a call?"

Reid shrugs again, and you absentmindedly wonder if his shoulders hurt from the number of times he has used that motion over the past week. "We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau but first day at Quantico he backed out."

Emily, who is sitting next to you, looks up with a grin. "He probably just couldn't take the heat."

"It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid states, and her face falls immediately.

"Right. My bad."

He hasn't been as irritable in recent days, but sometimes a random response will rub him the wrong way. You find Emily's hand on the armrest and squeeze it once. She looks down at her hand and then at you, a grateful smile on her face.

JJ directs everyone back to the images that were recovered as you approach Louisiana.

"A slaughter like this takes time," you note as you examine the depth and shape of the wounds on the dead man in the photos before you.

"Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives," Reid adds, chiming in from across the cabin, "and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero."

Gideon nods, looking up from his file. "This city's barely back to life. Something like this could cripple its psyche."

"So," you say, looking at JJ. "Where do we start?"

She sighs. "All of the records were washed away in Katrina."

"With no case files, there's only one place we can start," Hotch says, drawing your attention. "Square one."

The plane lands soon after, and you disembark into the midday heat, heading to the latest crime scene immediately after dropping your bags off at the station.

Instead of a body, there's a very alive man waiting for you all at the scene.

"You must be BAU," he says, reaching out to shake JJ's hand. "Will Lamontagne."

She smiles at him, accepting the handshake. "Hi, Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone."

The detective is looking at her so intently, you almost feel like you're interrupting something by bring here. "Okay, then. I pictured you different."

You glance over at Emily, who is already looking at you, a smirk on her face.

"These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, and L/N," she introduces. "This is Detective William Lamontagne Jr."

He nods at you. "Appreciate you guys being here."

"Of course," you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you shake his hand. Beside you, JJ has turned a light shade of mauve that you presently allow her to pretend is just from the heat.

***

"Morgan called," Hotch mentions when you finally meet him back at the station. He hasn't seen you since you got off the plane. "He and Prentiss think the unsub is a woman."

You ponder the idea, your eyes lighting up as the gaps in the profile get filled. "All straight male victims, killed while on a night out at the bars. Always in groups of other men, drinking. A woman would be able to lure them away. That makes sense."

He nods, turning back to the letters from the unsub. He's about to call the rest of the team back in when he notices your forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. You look up at him. "Wait, you said Prentiss and Morgan think it's a woman. What about Reid? Didn't he fly out with them?"

He sighs, mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. He doesn't want you worrying about Reid any more than you already have been, but he knows there isn't anything he can do to stop you. "Apparently he missed the flight. They couldn't get ahold of him."

"What?" Your brow furrows with concern, and he quickly interjects to keep you from spiraling. "They will be back from Texas any minute now, and Gideon said he spotted Reid heading over here a few minutes before you arrived. Nothing has happened to him."

"What are you talking about?" you exclaim, before bringing your voice down. "The worst thing happened to him. He's hurting more than any of us can possibly imagine. I just don't know how to help him get through it."

He doesn't correct you. He doesn't say that almost every single member of this team can at least somewhat relate to what Reid may be feeling, including you. Instead, he puts his hand on your arm and says, "You're doing all you can."

You sigh. "And what's that?"

"You're promising to be there when he's ready for your help." He sees the tension visibly leave your shoulders, and he pulls his hand back. "That's all any of us can do."

***

When another body is found in the French Quarter, the plan changes. Everyone disperses in pairs to cover the streets in the hopes of catching the unsub in action.

Even as night falls, the temperature doesn't, and you strip off your over-shirt, leaving you in a pale pink tank top. When you emerge from the bathroom, Hotch is the only one waiting for you outside, with all of the other pairs already patrolling Bourbon Street.

He gives you a funny look when he sees you tying your button-down around your waist, and you bump your shoulder against his with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

He exhales in a quick burst, before meeting your eye. "You look different."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes blinking shut as he clearly regrets his choice of words, "no, it's good...uh, you look good."

Your stomach flips and you turn your face down to hide the smile that's threatening to appear. "Thanks, Hotch."

He huffs out a laugh before leading you up to the bars, where tourists are bustling around in large groups. The sounds of buskers playing their accordions at the street corners loosens a memory from your brain, and you turn to him with a bright smile. "Remember your first performance of Pirates of Penzance?"

He frowns. "I remember it being my first and last foray into the world of theater."

"No," you giggle, glancing around you periodically even as you continue the story. "I mean, do you remember how that one accordion player tripped and almost fell into the orchestra pit like ten minutes into opening night?"

His eyes light up at the memory and he laughs. "I thought it was hilarious, but Haley was so stressed out the whole performance. To this day, I've never seen that vein in her forehead get so big."

"You were pirate number four," you chastise him with a grin. "She was one of the leads. I hardly think you can compare experiences."

He shrugs, his eyes still scanning the vicinity. He looks like he wants to say something, but then you both notice Morgan and Reid rushing towards one of the side streets and your conversation halts. "Let's go."

***

With help from Detective Lamontagne and his late father, the team is able to catch the unsub right before she kills another man. Once she's in custody, you wait outside by the ambulances, watching from afar as JJ and Will talk by his car.

After a few minutes, she hands him something and walks back over to where you're standing. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What did you do?" you ask, trying not to laugh at how freaked out she looks.

She puts her face in her hands for a second, before looking at you with a sigh. "I gave him my number."

"That's good!" you smile, squeezing her arm. "That's good, right?"

"I don't know," she says softly, her eyes squinting as she looks at you. "He seems really sweet. And he's clearly great at his job. I think the distance just worries me."

"You can take it slow," you tell her earnestly. "This doesn't have to be any more serious than you want it to be."

"What if I want it to be serious? Eventually, I mean."

You can't help but smile at the look on her face. You recognize it on yourself from when you first met Jeff: the excitement of possibility. "Then that's up to you too."

She nods, and you let out a smile. "Let loose, JJ. He seems like a good one, and you definitely deserve something good."

JJ glances over at the police cars, where Will is talking to one of the paramedics. "I hope so."

***

You sit by yourself on the flight home, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind from the case. You don't encounter female unsubs often, but the ones that arise always have a tendency to get under your skin. Maybe it's because their motivations seem so different from the others. Or maybe you just feel bad for them.

You're so zoned out that you don't realize Spencer is sitting next to you until he taps your arm. "Hey."

"Hey, Spence," you smile, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn't think you expect too much. "What's up?"

He looks down for a beat before meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Your heart twists and you press your lips together to keep from speaking too quickly. "You never have to apologize to me."

"I do," he says, shaking his head. "Please just let me."

He looks so strong all of a sudden. You haven't seen him look so steady in months, and it makes your chest feel lighter. "Okay. I forgive you, Spencer."

He nods, making a move to get up, but you don't let him get away just yet. "Just promise me something."

He purses his lips, like he's unsure of how to respond, but eventually he dips his chin into another nod.

"Promise me that next time you feel this way, you'll come to me."

He looks at you with an expression you can't decipher, but it quickly falls into contrition. "I promise."

***

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's shoulder bumps yours as he sits down on the edge of the desk next to you.

"Nothing," you say quickly. He's not sure why you're lying. He can sniff out your dishonesty from a mile away.

"I thought you and Reid got a chance to talk on the plane last week," he frowns, following your line of sight.

You sigh, turning your gaze away from the younger agent. "We did. I just keep thinking about what he said about the unsub at the last scene."

He's like a drug addict.

It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help.

"All of us knew," he says softly, his eyes turning up, searching for something he can't see. "To some extent, we knew. But he's doing a lot better now. We just have to give him time to trust us with the truth."

Your eyes find his. "How did you know you could trust me? When we were kids, I mean?"

Your question takes him aback. He wants to say something profound, to mention a specific moment when he realized that he could share the worst parts of his life with you without the fear that the world would end, but it wasn't that poetic. All he knows is that you were a kid, and he was too, and the first time you saw the splotches of black and blue painting his skin, you didn't turn away. You looked at him, not with pity or sorrow, but with a strength that he still draws from to this day. "I think I just knew you would always be there."

You ponder his words, your eyes traveling back to Reid, who is flipping through a book he brought with him. He knows there are a lot of ways you could take what he said, but he believes you'll take what you need, because he was telling the truth.

You really were always there for him. Even when you weren't - either because of physical distance or because you were in a fight - he never doubted that you would be there if he needed you.

"Come on," he says after a beat. "Let's head back."

You nod, your mind still a million miles away. "Okay."

***

Friday nights used to be your date night. Jeff would promise to be home by seven, usually with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and you would cook something special together before watching a movie or falling into bed.

After he died, Friday nights became your least favorite time of the week, serving as a constant reminder of what you should have, and no longer do.

Today, for the first time in over two years, you think you might be ready to remember those nights you used to love. Grabbing a bottle of cabernet from your pantry, you pull out a thin-stemmed glass and pour yourself some wine. Your heart thuds heavily as you swirl the wine around, and you are willing yourself to bring the glass to your lips when your pager goes off. You feel a shameful sense of relief as you set your glass down and reach for your purse.

181 Arthur Street. Why does that look familiar?

You wrack your brain for a second before it clicks. It takes you less than a minute to toss your wine into the sink and grab your coat.

***

"Where's Gideon?" you ask when you spot Hotch and the team standing in his kitchen.

"He's not here," he replied. "It seems he left in a hurry."

Morgan looks at him with an urgency you recognize in yourself. "PD thinks he did this?"

"They have six witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

"Okay, he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did do this."

Hotch shrugs, and you can feel the momentary helplessness in the motion. "Either way, we're under strict orders not to get in the way of the investigation."

"Gideon's a suspect," Emily nods, "we're his colleagues."

"Conflict of interest," JJ agrees. "There's no way they'll ask for our help."

"Which he needs badly right now."

You turn into the bedroom to look at the crime scene for the first time. The mutilation of the victim's body brings a familiar nausea to your stomach that you swallow down. "Do we know who she is?"

Hotch comes in behind you. "An old school friend." He turns back to spout off a list of instructions to JJ, but you can't take your eyes off of the woman.

Evisceration of the torso. Removal of various organs. No defensive wounds.

Something in her hand catches your attention and your eyes flicker down to see what she's clutching. Using one of your gloved hands, you pry open her fist and reveal a broken piece of bone. A rib bone.

"Frank," you whisper, almost to yourself. "It's Frank."

"What did you say?" Morgan asks, stepping up next to you. You unfurl your hand to reveal the bone, and he swears under his breath. He turns around to address the rest of the team. "Frank's back."

After JJ snaps a dozen photos of the crime scene on her phone, you all head out into the night air to regroup and formulate a game plan. You hang behind the team on the walk out, your mind spinning with memories of hands and voices you still see sometimes when you're trying to fall asleep.

"Y/N." Your eyes snap up to Emily's as she strolls alongside you. "You okay?"

She looks sincere, and you find yourself wanting to talk all of a sudden. You nod, heaving out a sigh. "Yeah, it just feels very fresh all over again."

"I can imagine." She takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. "You can come to me if you need a break from all of it."

She leaves you with an earnest smile, and you realize, not for the first time, how glad you are that she's on the team.

***

You aren't able to save Rebecca Garner this time. Frank kills her, and you once again feel that familiar bitterness of nausea rising in your throat as you see her mutilated body.

When you realize he's going to go after children again, you join Hotch and Morgan as they go to Tracey Belle's house.

"We need a crime scene team," Hotch barks into his comm when the home comes up empty, no trace of anyone inside.

"That's my house!"

You turn around and see Tracey's parents running up to the entrance, panic reflected in their eyes.

Hotch steps forward to block them. "Mr. Belle..."

"You have to let us in. My daughter's in there."

He turns to the mother. "Ma'am, you can't go in right now."

"Where's Tracy? Where is she?"

You can see the interaction pulling him down, like a ship anchored to the sea floor.

"What's important to know right now is Tracy is alive, okay? Your daughter's alive."

S.W.A.T. takes the parents aside to explain the situation to them in more detail, and you go to Hotch's side as a pained expression crosses his face. More than anything, you want to comfort him. To tell him that Tracey isn't Jack, that this won't happen to him...but how can you?

Gideon's girlfriend was murdered tonight. Jeff was killed while undercover. Your mother was killed by a drunk driver. No one is ever really safe.

Your eyes flash back over to Mr. and Mrs. Belle, and your chest tightens almost uncontrollably as you imagine how scared Tracey must be.

When Emily and JJ find Jane in a holding cell at the local precinct, her knowledge of Frank's backstory provides more clues about his whereabouts. You go with JJ and Reid to his mother's apartment in Manhattan, while the rest of the team heads to the train station to find Frank.

The idea of Tracey being all alone, frightened for her life, plagues your every thought as the three of you drive to the city. You try to clear your mind as you push through the front door and check for any sign of life. Instead, what you find is the dusty corpse of Frank's late mother.

"Guys, over here." Reid points to a latched door. Stepping around the bed, you immediately unlock the door and throw it open, revealing the tiny, shivering form of Tracey.

"Oh, sweetie," you gasp as sits up in fright, her posture only relaxing once she sees the FBI vests. "You're okay, honey."

You undo the ties on her wrists and she all but falls forward and into your arms. You pull her into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of any possible injuries she could have sustained. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against yours brings you a familiar comfort, and you squeeze her tighter, before finally letting go.

***

He finds himself in Strauss's office again as he explains what happened with the Frank case. How he killed himself and Jane, but he can't bring himself to take that as a failure, because he knows she never would've found the strength to leave him anyway. "Once again, the team has battled a monster and won."

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here." Her eyes are brimming with scorn. "The residual impact as a result of the investigations into the crimes and criminals you pursue is. Every cause has its effect."

He almost scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post."

There it is. He knows she never liked the way he handled his team. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "The modern furniture, strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall are all in conflict with your family photos."

Her eyes widen but he just continues, undeterred.

"You have three children, but you favor the middle one, your son."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you love all your children," he shrugs, "but not like your son."

Strauss twists her hand into a fist. "That's enough."

"The bonsai that you obsessively nurture is to compensate for feelings of failure as a mother..."

"Agent Hotchner," she says, her voice bordering on rage. "I said that is enough. My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team."

"My team?" he scoffs, unable to keep the malice from his tone. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team. She needn't worry.

"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"And Agent L/N," he pauses finally, taking a moment to find himself again, "she has taken the immense loss that life has handed to her and transformed it, not into cynicism, but into empathy, for her team, for the victims, for the world."

Strauss doesn't say anything, and he can't help the vindication that shines through his voice as he says, "I stand by my actions and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner," she emphasizes, making him look back at her one last time.

"How do I know you favor your son?"

She simply looks at him, a mixture of irritation and shame on her face.

"I'm good at my job."

***

"What's wrong?" Hotch looks up in surprise as you sidle up next to him. He was staring at the portrait of the FBI director, hanging in the hallway outside the bullpen, and he only does that when he's professionally stressed.

He looks like he wants to avoid the question, but you fix him with a glare that makes him sigh. "We're being evaluated."

"Doesn't that happen every year?" you ask, still not understanding.

"It's six months early."

You take a deep breath. This past year has been tough for everybody, but you think the team has come through the other side better people. "So they're assessing our unit. It'll be fine, we did great work this year."

"The only file they didn't request was mine."

That sends a spike of anxiety through your bloodstream, but he doesn't need your fear. "They could never fire you. You stepped up to the plate when Gideon left. You helped make this unit what it is."

You're the reason I joined at all, you want to say. You made this unit my family. I can't imagine being here without you.

But that isn't fair. He doesn't need to carry this with you. This burden of having no one else.

So instead you just smile at him, bump his shoulder with yours, and say, "You're going to be fine. This team wouldn't be the same without you."

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @distortionbobble, @sanayikes (message me to be added!)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jason gideon #elle greenaway #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season two #hotch fic #criminal minds fanfiction #anchor series #anchor

[iluvreid]

Anyone got any good MGG/Spencer Reid fic recs? I feel like i’ve read EVERYTHING and i’m DYING. Pls help x

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid x reader #mgg pics #i need this man biblically #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds gone wrong #criminal minds edit #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fic #luke alvez #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #elle greenaway

[uranometrias]

published a spencer fic on wattpad && im so excited to see it come to life!!

#spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds oc #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #jeid #beyonce #emily prentiss #David Rossi #elle greenaway #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg pics #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x y/n